You Don't Change The World By Trying To Be Like It
by mgsglacier
Summary: A series of one-shots and short stories about Newsie shenanigans, mostly focusing on Davey because he's my favorite character and doesn't get enough credit from the fandom. Mostly fluff, definitely some angst, lots of silliness, and no romance.
1. An Unexpected Offer

"Get _The World _here! Latest news on Governor Roosevelt's campaign for Vice President!"

Davey's voice grated painfully. How the hell did Jack do this all day and still have the breath to keep the other Newsies in line? He kept shouting. Selling his last paper would be much easier than contending with the Delancey brothers at the circulation floor that evening.

A man in a business suit stopped next to him. "I don't think I've ever heard a Newsie talk as much about the actual news as you do." He kept his hands in his pockets and looked Davey over. Davey would bet a dime that this man had been burned by one of Jack's ridiculous headlines.

"I read it every day, sir. I like to know what it is that I'm selling."

"Really? What do you think of this whole election business?"

Davey weighed his options for a brief moment. If he shared his honest opinion, he might lose a sale. There was still an hour or so before sundown, and he decided he could risk it.

"I think Governor Roosevelt is a great politician, and not just because of what he's done for us Newsies recently. Bryan is giving them a run for their money now, but I think they'll pull through. He's done fantastically as governor by busting up the machines and different monopolies. It doesn't hurt the trust's profits too much, and everyone makes a better wage with the smaller businesses being able to compete – and who doesn't want that? They'd have my vote, were I old enough."

"And how old are you boy?"

"I'm seventeen, sir."

"Hmmm." The man fished in his pocket and pulled out a nickel. Davey raised his eyebrows at it, but took it nonetheless. "Well spoken. A kid like you ought to be in school."

"Maybe one day," Davey handed him his paper with a smile and fished in his pocket for the change.

"Keep it."

"Thank you, sir!" The man walked off, paper under his arm, and David headed in the other direction. Despite the nice day, mild and warm for early March, a cloud of sadness followed him after the mention of school.

He missed it, honestly. He remembered the thrill of triumph that came with solving a difficult math problem, chatting with his favorite teachers, drinking tea while reading a book on lunch break.

Books. Right. He still had those, a small stash he had saved up before his dad's accident, and his own project. At this, he brightened. He had it alright now. The Newsies were great friends he never had back at school. For being such an awkward outsider, they had accepted him more than any of the other boys, big brains and big mouth, and big ideas, and all. And the job itself wasn't bad. He got fresh air, he played with Les more often too. All the other Newsies were so good with him, and it was nice to not have to babysit all the time.

Life wasn't so hard, but Davey supposed he'd always be stuck between his two worlds. He shook the though away. He had something to look forward to at home, so he quickened his pace and soon rounded the corner into Newsies Square.

Les waved his older brother down as soon as he saw him, and Jack followed close behind.

"Hullo Davey! Jack shouted. "Ya finished for the day?"

Les ran up to show Davey his pockets heavy with coins.

"Yep. I see you've made out like a bandit! That's not Jack's, isn't it?" Davey asked. He suspected that the older Newsie was slipping extra change to Les whenever they sold together. Or maybe that was the just the charm of the famous Jack Kelly that could supposedly sell a 50 papes a day.

"Naw, Dave, how could you accuse me of such a thing?" Jack feigned offense but his smile gave away the joke. "Your brother is quite a natural."

"Thanks for selling with him today."

"It's my professional pleasure."

Davey grinned and fished the coins out of his pocket, carefully counting and splitting the difference to share with Jack, before turning to his brother. "Les!" Let's get going. Mom and dad want us home for dinner!"

At the mention of their parents, Davey noticed a flash of sadness come over Jack's face. It was instantaneous, but unmistakable. "Have a nice night then!" He said, turning to go and plastering a smile on his face.

"Have a nice night," Davey said. He started away, before turning back suddenly. "You know my offer still stands, right?"

"What?"

"When we first met, and you found out that we had folks, I invited you over for dinner. Or any of the Newsies for that matter. My parents would love to meet you all, and my sisters make enough food to feed an army. Besides, everyone's dyin to meet the famous Jack Kelly who's done so much for us the past few weeks. The little kids live for Les's stories about you."

"Thanks, really, but I've got plans with Katherine tomorrow," Jack said. "And we wouldn't want to intrude."

"Nah, that was all you. I wouldn't want to be a bother."

"They love you already. Ma used to be an artist, and she loves seeing your cartoons in the paper. You have to come."

Jack hesitated for a second at the mention of his art. He was still self-conscious about it, and Davey couldn't blame him. "I'd love to Dave, but I've got plans with Katherine tomorrow at Jacobi's. And I wouldn't want to eat up your food."

"Bring her along! Ma makes enough to feed an army."

"Alright! Alright! I'll ask her."

I smile. "I'll let Ma know you're both coming. See you tomorrow!"

Getting home took nearly half an hour because Les kept getting distracted, but Davey finally succeeded in herding his younger brother back to their small apartment in uptown Manhattan. The house was a bit chaotic, as usual, and the boys quickly set to work helping Sarah and their mom with dinner. Davey ate quickly, and as soon as the dishes had been cleared from the table, he went to the bed that he and Les shared and pulled a small box from underneath it. Inside were a pile of old school notebooks, the newspaper from the strike with Katherine's article and their front-page picture – above the fold - and more recently added, the blank sheets of that bound pape stacks each morning. Each was covered in rows of neat, cramped writing and folded neatly to prevent tearing. Davey fished out a blank page and pencil, and sat back down at the table to write.

He had been working on the story for years, in between classes at school and late at night after his homework or paper selling had been finished. Tonight, he'd finally reached the climax, and the scenes he drafted mentally while shouting on the street corner were itching to escape the pen. Soon he was lost in his own world as the shouting of his younger siblings faded into the background.

_Tomas whacked the boiler with his wrench once before turning to the others. "I think it'll hold for a little while."_

"_Long enough to get into harbor?"_

"_If it doesn't, we're captured. If it works too well, we're blown to bits. We don't got much of a choice here. Fire her up!"_

_The engine roars to life and the ship starts to inch forward. The captain clapped Tomas on the back and they went up to the deck. The fresh smell of sea air and wind met their tired faces. "You've done it again, laddie."_

Someone touched Davey's shoulder and he shot up, pen scratching across the page. He frowned and tired to wipe it away before looking up to see his mother standing over him with a lamp.

"It's near dark out. Go to bed."

"Just a minute more?"

"Bed."

Davey sighed and carefully folded the pages to keep them safe before putting them back in the box and smiling. There were three more finished pages now, and he was thankful that his siblings had left him alone for as long as they did tonight; he didn't normally get that much uninterrupted time. Or maybe he was just being oblivious. He held the box to his side and kissed his mother, father, and sisters goodnight before moving to his bed and tucked the stories away.

He swore he could smell sea salt as he slipped into sleep.

The next night after work, Les and Davey met Jack and Katherine in Newsies Square. She was wearing a smart business dress, since she came right from work at the _Sun_, and she was trying, vainly, to get the last of the dirt off of Jack's face. Soon enough, they were climbing the rickety stairs to the Jacob's apartment, trying to keep pace with Les who wouldn't stop babbling about something or other.

With each step, Davey's nerves wore. Why did he think this was a good idea? Katherine's an heiress. She's probably got a full staff of chefs to wait on her if she pleases. And Jack? He'll be grateful for a free meal, but his manners aren't the most… refined. Davey just prayed he wouldn't rub Ma the wrong way. He didn't have much more time to overthink as Les threw open their front door.

"Ma! We're home! Gee, that smells great!" He shouted. Ma gave him a hug and then straightened up to greet her guests. The younger kids were busy cleaning and setting the table. Davey's eyes widened. He had never seen them all working at the same time before, and not bickering. Ma must have worked a miracle to make that happen.

"Mr. Kelly! Ms. Puli- Plumber! I'm so proud to make your acquaintance! Welcome!" Ms. Jacobs eagerly shook Katherine's hand, then Jack's. He wiped his hand off on his pants first. Davey resisted the urge to groan, before noticing his dad. He struggled to stand from his chair in the corner, and began to hobble his way across the small room to meet their guests. Davey rushed to him and grabbed his arm, then guided him to the table.

Soon the younger siblings lost interest in their jobs and started crowding around to introduce themselves. Davey quickly quieted them down.

"Hey! Settle. Jack, Katherine, these are the rest of my siblings. Sarah's 16, and the second mom really-" a cute girl with dark curly hair gave a shy wave from where she stood by the stove – "Then there's Rebecca and Anna – they'd be the two chatterboxes. You know Les. Marie is around here somewhere, she's 5, and then there's the baby twins. Where are they?" Davey pointed to the other siblings as he called out their names and looked around for the missing little ones.

"The young'uns are sleeping. I fed them before you got home," Ma explained. "Dinner should be ready soon, _right?_" She gave her middle children a good long stare and they jumped back to their jobs.

Jack's head spun as he tried to take in the chaos of the small room. "Man, Dave! I dunno how you keep 'em all straight in your head."

"Neither do I. Though you manage to keep track of all the Newsies, that should count for something."

The Jacobs didn't waste much time on the niceties, in part due to Les urging them all to supper. Soon they took their seats at the table and dug into Ma's pierogis and golampkis – foods from their old home in Poland, and from the way Jack was squinting at his plate, Davey could tell he had never tried them. He ate his serving eagerly, and Ma piled on more food before he could ask for seconds.

"Ms. Jacobs, this must be the best food this side of Manhattan," he declares.

"That's why I married her," Their father said. Katherine and Jack exchanged a look and started laughing.

Eventually, once everyone's appetites had been satisfied and Ma's sixth offer for more food had been turned down, Davey's nerves were a little less on edge. Jack was great with the younger kids, and they had all gone to play cards with Pa. Sarah was chattering off Katherine's ear with questions about work and the business world, and Kath seemed pleased to have another girl find interest in her writing. Ma listened for a moment before interrupting.

"You're such a wonderful writer, Katherine! We've seen a few of the papers that the boys bring home. Has David every shown you his work?"

"Ma!" Davey hissed, but it was too late. Katherine looked at him expectantly, and he felt his ears go red with embarrassment.

"You write? You never told me!" Katherine grinned, and Sarah tried to stifle a laugh.

"Not really," Davey rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "Not like you do, as a journalist, obviously."

"You write great stories though," Sarah volunteered. "He reads 'em to us sometimes as bedtime stories. The littles love'em!" Davey glared at his sister, who just gave his mother a conspiratorial wink.

"You're an author!" Katherine exclaimed. Davey stared at the table where suddenly the silverware was the most interesting thing in the room. "David, that's amazing! Would you let me read them? Once you're done of course?"

Davey gave his Ma and sister a 'don't you dare' look. They shrugged and got up to chat with Jack about his art in between rounds of their card game, leaving Davey and Katherine alone for the moment. Jack's cartoons were published occasionally in the _Sun_ right next to Katherine's articles, and it was doing wonders for circulation.

Davey turned back to her now, weighing his options. He didn't want to disappoint her if he didn't let her read it, and he didn't think it was really that great. Katherine was _published, _and Davey respected her for all she'd accomplished.

"I've got one finished, but it's not great. They're…" he hesitated. "They're kind of silly. Science fiction adventure sort of things, really."

"Ooh, the next Jules Verne," she jokes. "Fascinating stuff, especially now at the turn of the century!"

Davey laughed. "If I'm going to trust anyone with my writing, I'd like it to be you," he admitted, and quickly got up to retrieve his manuscript. Katherine smiled and took it eagerly when he got back, eyes skimming quickly over the close lines of Davey's cramped, neat, handwriting. He left the table to distract himself with the card game. Les beat him twice before he started to actually pay attention, but he kept sneaking glances back at Katherine over his shoulder. She was smiling down at the page.

A lot had changed in the past few days.

Eventually, Davey got his mind off of his story and started to beat Les again. Jack rejoined the game, and soon they were shouting at each other and banging on the table with each good play. Rebecca and Anna shrieked and threw dice at each other as Ma smiled at their antics.

Davey realized that this he hadn't really _played_ in ages. Mom always told him he grew up too fast. Sarah too. Maybe she's right, but all he knew was that for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel anxious.

It felt really good.

Davey tried to hide a grin as Les played his next hand. If he played this right, he could stick Jack with the queen of spades and win the whole game. Suddenly a cry from Katherine shook him out of the game.

"I finished!" A wild grin spread over her face as she finished skimming the last paragraph. Davey dropped his cards, unsure of how to take this.

"Was it alright? I mean, it's not terribly sophisticated stuff, and I'm not very good at this yet," he started to say before Katherine cut him off.

"This is incredible! You have to publish this!"

Davey didn't know what he was expecting out of her, but that wasn't it. "Publish?" he laughed. "I can't publish this! It's…" he searched for the right word. "Elementary."

"No, it's wonderful. The plot is well executed – I _never_ saw the twist coming – and I love all the characters. You're a fantastic author, David." The look on Katherine's face was so earnest, he almost couldn't believe it.

"Maybe it's alright for a first piece, but really, Kath? Me? Publish?"

"I know a few writers who have their stories published chapter by chapter in the paper. I'm sure if you sent in an excerpt and a query, you'd be given a place. I can help you!"

"That's not a bad offer to pass up, Davey," Jack said. "Besides, when she gets her mind on something, there's not a lot we can do to stop her."

"I can't put my writing in the pape, then go hawking it on the street corners the next day!"

"You wouldn't have to sell them. You'd earn a penny for every two words."

Davey tried to protest but the words refused to form on his tongue. That's… a lot of money. Enough to get Pa medicine. Enough to send Les and the girls back to school He might even be able to go back to school.

But that would mean losing the Newsies.

"I'm sorry, I can't." Davey pushed himself back from the table. "I write for myself, really, not the masses." He quickly collected the pages from Katherine and shoved them back in the box as he gave her a fake smile to hide how shaken he really felt. "Besides. I'm more than happy being a newsboy."

"If you say so. Still, consider it." Katherine realized she had said something to upset her quiet friend, so she relented. Davey breathed a silent sigh of relief as she continued to speak, "Now deal me in. I'm about to show you how to really win Hearts."

"You've already won mine," Jack flirts, sliding the ace in her direction. Ma and Pa cooed at the lovebirds as the girls laughed and Les made a gagging sound. Katherine takes the card and slides it into her hand with a coy smile.

"You're going down, Kelly."

Davey couldn't focus on the game and the rest of the evening passed in a blur. Before he knew what had happened, he'd already shown Jack and Katherine home and he was back in his own bed with Les snoring beside him.

Ma tried to talk to her son a few times throughout the night, but it was obvious that he was upset, and soon she left him alone to think. Overthink really, but that seemed to be the norm nowadays. Davey stared at the ceiling. He really should be thrilled that Katherine like the story. He worked so hard on it, spent hours bent over his desk, meticulously setting down words despite his cramping hand. She really was a fantastic writer in her own right – something made clear multiple times over his few weeks with the Newsies – and her high praise meant a lot. And if she liked it, how many other people would too?

Davey always dreamed of people loving his work. He'd always wanted to entertain people, the same way he stayed up late at night, squinting over the pages of _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. _It would be a dream come true to be published. Imagine someone finishing a chapter in the paper and throwing it to the ground as they realize they'd have to wait a whole week to read the next part.

And then there's the money. One book is already done – it's short, but it'd be enough to last a month or two of publications, and by that time, he'd be able to finish his current one. After Da's accident, he'd really been the head of the household, and it would make life so much easier on Ma and Sarah and the rest of them. He could get a real education at University.

But of course, school would mean leaving the Newsies, and that thought immediately banished the idea of publication. He didn't have many friends back at school, always the shy, bookish one in the back of class, and one day it was all gone. Da was laid up with a bum leg and suddenly Davey had to make sure his family didn't starve. He had no idea what he was doing when he had shown up for that first day of work, and within two days, he was leading a strike.

The rough and tumble boys he'd never given the time of day to before just up and accepted him as their brains and trusted him with their lives. He could never leave them. Not for the world. Not after all they'd gone through together.

His family was scraping by alright with the money from selling and Sarah and Mom's jobs at the factory. He could learn from books. He'd save up, one day make enough money to get his dad the medicine he needed and his sisters the education they deserved. He'd have to make things work where they were. He'd have to.

**Author's Note:**

**Hey guys! Thank you for reading and I hope you like this story! I'm the oldest of five kids, grand-daughter to Polish immigrants, and the nerdy mom-friend in my friend-group, so I relate to Davey more than most. He's always been my favorite character in Newsies, and it annoyed me that he doesn't have as much attention in the fandom (besides shipping). He such a dynamic character with so much development over the course of the musical, and I decided to take matters into my own hands. **

**Since I relate to Davey so much, I apologize if this at all reads as self-insert - I promise I'm trying to keep him and all the others as in-character as possible. I'm still fairly new to fic writing, and have a lot of room for improvement. If you don't mind, please leave a review or constructive criticism so I can do a better job paying tribute to this incredible musical in the future.**

**Next up – Davey and Crutchie act as the mom-friends to some younger Newsies in trouble.**


	2. Preperation

"Get up guys!"

Race's shouting echoed through the lodging house. Davey groaned, rolled over and dragged the threadbare blanket over his head.

"Let's go, boys! Time to wake up!"

He ripped Davey's blanket off of him. "You've never had a lodging house wakeup call, sleepyhead, huh? Come on!"

Davey groaned and sat up. "Are you this annoying every morning?"

"Bright and the early" Race smiled, and grabbed his shit from over the bed railing. "These guys don't wake up for nothing."

"Remind me to thank Les sometime," Davey muttered as he shook his younger brother awake.

The morning sun peeked into the crowded, humid room. There was a thunderstorm yesterday, and the Jacobs had been forced to stay overnight. Davey tried vainly to brush the wrinkles from his vest, and set to work packing his bag as the other boys slowly started walking up and dressing.

He dumped his bag out on the bed. Bandages. Scraps of yesterday's papes. A few pencils. Half of his lunch. A sling. A handful of cool rocks Les had asked him to hold. Two small splints. His father's old army canteen. A small clean cloth. He quietly set to work sorting through the important stuff and repacking it into the bottom of his satchel.

He was re-rolling the bandages when Finch saw his stuff. "Dave! What are you doing with all of that junk?"

"It's not junk, Finch. It's first aid materials. I'm just repacking it. I do this every day."

"Why on Earth would you break your back lugging that around all day when you've already got a score of papes to carry?"

"I like to be prepared," Davey rolled his eyes and stuffed the folded bandages into the bag. It was too early in the morning for this interrogation.

"Look, Dave, preparation is great an all, but that's just dumb," Sniper said.

"New Newsies always make that mistake, he'll learn soon enough," Albert added.

"You didn't make fun of me when I carried this stuff during the strike, Davey pointed out. He pulled on his hat. "In Jacobi's, you all lined up to wait for me to help bandage and splint all your injuries. No one was laughing then."

"Yeah, cause we knew we were goin to need fixin up after having the crap kicked out of us by the bulls," Race said.

"We won, Dave! To quote Higgins, Stow the Seriosities!" Finch said. "We don't need that stuff no more!"

Davey just shook his head and slung the bag over his shoulder as Jack and Crutchie made their way downstairs. It was going to be a long day.

Davey had finished selling his days papers and was playing a card game with Crutchie in Newsies Square when Specs ran up to them. His face was a mask of fear and his glasses sat askew on his nose. He barely reached them before collapsing in exhaustion.

Crutchie dropped his cards and caught the younger Newsie before he hit the ground, propping him up on his own seat. Davey reached for his bag.

"What's the matter, Specs? You ok?"

"Finch is hurt!" Specs gasped. "He and Sniper was doing target practice on the Delanceys and they caught him! Beat him real good. They put up a hell of a fight and Sniper's got a shiner, but Finch's arm is hurt real bad!"

"Are you alright?"

"Im fine, just outa breath. I was up on a fire escape so they didn't see me, an I just run to get help."

"Where's Jack?" Davey asked. "He'll know what to do."

"Still selling, he's got a hundred papes today," Crutchie explained, "Come on. We'll get em." He grabbed his crutch and stood up. "Lead the way."

When they reached the two younger Newsies, Sniper and Finch were already making their way back towards the square slowly. Snipers left eye was quickly swelling and was already purple. Finch was cradling his right arm close to his body, slingshot stuck in his waistband for safe keeping.

"I brought help!" Specs called, and Sniper squinted through her black eye to see who it was.

Crutchie guided the kids to the side of the street. "Here, sit down. Lemme get a look at you."

Sniper frowned as the older Newsies inspected them for further injury. Her knees were badly scraped, and of course her eye was closing but otherwise, she was alright. "Sorry you had to come get us."

"It's alright, kiddo. So long as you're ok." Crutchie said, "Davey, can you please hand me that cloth?"

Davey had already emptied the contents of his small first aid kit into his lap. He uncorked the canteen and poured some cool water onto the washcloth and passed it to Crutchie. He started to dab at Sniper's bloody knees. She winced but didn't cry.

Now Davey turned his attention to Finch. His arm looked fine, there was no bone poking out, and it wasn't twisted in any awkward angles, so hopefully, it was just a sprain or a small break. He carefully took the smaller boy's arm in his hands and tried to extend it.

"Where does it hurt?"

As Davey moved Finch's arm past a right angle, he cringed. "There, my elbow."

"I don't think it's broken but you'll definitely have to keep it immobilized. Here, hold it still."

Davey quickly fetched the bandages and splints and set to work setting Finches arm, then putting it in the sling to keep it immobile.

Finch frowned as Davey poked and wrapped his arm. He slowly started to move it into a right angle to fit in the sling, and the dull ache in his elbow suddenly turned into shooting pain. He gave a small cry of pain.

"Sorry, sorry," Davey whispered. Finch just bit his lip and nodded.

Crutchie pushed Sniper's loose hair behind her ear to get a better look at her bruise. She scowled and tied her long brown hair back into a braid. "Thanks for coming for us," she said again.

"Always, kiddo," Crutchie smiled at her, and she smiled back. "I don't think there's much we can do for that shiner. You hurt anywhere else?"

Sniper shook her head.

"What in the world were you thinking, shooting at the Delancey brothers?" Davey asked. Not even Jack would risk a fight if he didn't have to actually defend himself.

"We didn't!" Finch protested. "We was doing target practice!"

"Wasn't our fault they walked downrange!" Sniper said.

"That's like claiming that when you punch someone, they ran into your fist!" Davey exclaimed, "That's ridiculous and you know it. You should also know better than to go picking a fight with someone like the Delancey brothers!"

"You're lucky they didn't hurt you worse than they did," Crutchie said. "They're twice your size and twice as mean."

"They grabbed my arm to try and twist my slingshot outta my hand. Sniper kept hitting them till she ran outta stones. Then we started really fighting. She's just as good as a shin kicker as she is a sharpshooter!" Finch beamed with pride at his friend.

"You got Oscar pretty good in the face though. We'll have matching shiners by tomorrow!" Sniper laughed.

Davey frowned at their light-hearted retelling. He imagined his small friends being beaten and left for dead in some back alley and shuddered. "This isn't funny!" He hissed. "They could have killed you. Just because you got away this time doesn't mean you'll be so lucky in the future. You have to be more careful!"

The smiles dropped off Sniper and Finch's faces as Davey's words hit home.

"But we're alright now! We gots you guys to take care of us!"

"And what if we can't get to you in time? What if you're alone and don't have each other to look out for each other?" Crutchie asked.

Davey's right. You guys got to use some sense. I know that the Delanceys are bullies and you gotta stand up for yourself sometimes. But yas gotta know the difference between self-defense and being reckless. Don't start a fight if you don't hafta."

Finch nodded somberly, "I won't be getting up to any trouble for a while, I can't shoot with a broken arm."

Sniper frowned, considering this, "We could use spitballs!"

Davey glared at her, "you shall do no such thing."

"Aww don't worry, Ma. Spitballs don't hurt!" Finch said enthusiastically.

Davey just shook his head with a laugh, then turned back to his bag and pulled out two hard candies. He held them in front of the two kids as their eyes widened.

"Where'd ya get those? They weren't in your bag this morning!" Sniper said.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You pulled candy out of nowhere!"

"What? No, that just happens sometimes." The others laughed as Davey continued. "Now, you can have these if you promise to stay out of the Delanceys way from here on out, ok?"

Finch and Sniper quickly nodded in agreement and took their candies.

Crutchie laughed. "Let's get you two troublemakers' home."

Finch and Sniper jumped up and ran ahead of Davey and Crutchie as they began heading back to the lodging house. They smiled at each other.

"Do you want candy too?" Davey asked. He was already holding another two carmels. Crutchie grinned and took his.

"Preperation, huh? Not a bad idea."

Les was pacing laps around the lodging house, and Jack couldn't blame him. Crutchie NEVER came home late, and it seemed unlike Davey to do the same, not to mention the younger three troublemakers.

"Do you think they're going to be alright?" Les asked for the tenth time that hour.

"They're probably fine kiddo. Since all five of em are out, they might be together, or maybe it was just a slow selling day for them. They'll get home alright," Jack reassured Les, but he still kept checking out the window anytime he heard a sound on the street. He knew what Crutchie's walk sounded like, and he knew that the clicking of leather heels on the pavement wasn't him. But he looked nonetheless.

"But what if they got lost? What if the cops arrested 'em?"

"Les, have you ever known your brother of all people to break a rule in his life? The cops won't be after him."

"He led the strike," Les pointed out.

"Dhuuuuuuuuuzt," Jack made a sound of annoyed resignation.

"Exactly!"

"Ok, but we're not striking no more, and he's not the type to break rules at the drop of a hat. Neither is Crutchie. He even calls Weasel by his real name."

"What about Finch and Sniper and Specs?"

"What about us?" Finch's voice came from the doorway as the missing Newsies came into the Lodging house. Les rushed to his brother, who stooped to hug him. Jack spun around.

"Whoa, whoa, what happened to you guys?"

"We got into a bit of a scraped but Davey and Crutchie fixed us up!" Sniper said cheerfully.

"Were ya worried about us?"

"Les was." Jack half-lied, "What sort of-"

"It's nothing, Jack, really. We've taken care of the problem and they won't be doing it again," Davey said. Jack turned to Crutchie for answers and only got a sly grin out of his friend. He was going to have to shake him down for an explanation later.

"Hmmm. Well, Finch? Bet you won't be making fun of Davey's packing habits no more, huh?"

Finch gulped down the last of his candy before speaking, "No sir. In fact, I'm thinking bout getting some of my own!"

**A/N:**

**Fun fact: I'm a lifeguard and when I'm not on duty, I carry a CPR mask nearly everywhere.**

**I'm still getting to know all the background Newsies and since the live recording isn't on Netflix anymore, it's hard to figure out who's who. I'm largely relying on fandom conjecture, so I apologize if I accidently mis-represent someone's favorite. Please don't hesitate to tell me, so I can improve in the future! The basis of my characterization for Finch and Sniper came from the fanfic "Girlsies Week 2018" by Ensignily, so shout out to that awesome fic!**

**Disclamer: I don't own Newsies, or "Girlsies Week 2018"**


	3. Two Can Play pt 1

Different smells drifted through the air, teasing Crutchie as he made his way along the sidewalk. Vendors lined the street to sell their wares to the hungry mid-day crowds, but Crutchie couldn't stop to eat. He took his spot at the street corner and began to shout the day's headline, hoping to make a quick sale off the same crowd as the vendors.

He had only sold three when he saw the short boy standing on the opposite street corner and quickly crossed to meet him, "Hey Les!"

"Hey, Crutchie! What are you doing here?"

"Same as you."

"I'm sorry, did ya want me to move somewhere else?"

"Nah, you're ok." Crutchie lowered himself to the bench and tucked his crutch under him for safe-keeping. "We can sell together for a little while and split what we make. Here, take my papers. You sell em, and I'll put the headlines to a song."

"Is that how you normally sell?"

"Sometimes. With the street being so loud, hearing music will catch people's attention more than just shouting."

Les nodded in understanding and eagerly took the piles of papes. He set his hat on the ground and started drumming on the bench as Crutchie's voice rose above the crowd. Soon pennies clinked as they dropped into the hat, and the pape stack shrunk in size. A few others stopped to listen to the silly songs that Crutchie improvised about the stories, people that passed, and the day in general. It didn't take long for most of their papes to be sold.

Les scooped up his hat and carried the coins back to Crutchie.

"That worked real well! We ought to do this every day!" He said enthusiastically.

"Maybe," Crutchie answered, smiling. His stomach growled and he started counting the coins to see if they would have enough for lunch.

"You hungry?" Les dug his own packed lunch from his bag and split his bread in half. He extended the larger piece to Crutchie.

"Aw kiddo, ya don't have to give me your lunch. I'll get something for myself later. What is it with you Jacobs and the overwhelming urge to feed us? Jack was telling me how much food your mom fed him."

Les shrugged. "Hey! We was actually supposed to ask you if you wanted to come to a picnic tomorrow night!"

"What?"

"Yeah! You and all the Newsies! 5 of the 8 kids in our family have birthdays in these two months, so our family has a big picnic every year to celebrate. We wanted you to come!"

"That sounds like a load of fun! Is there anything that we can bring to help?"

"Mom said that we have to pick up two chickens and some vegetables on the way home from work today."

At the mention of chickens, Crutchie smiled. A plan began forming in his mind, but it would take a lot of help to pull off. He quickly came up with a strategy and turned back to Les. "Hey, let me get the chickens. I know the woman who sells them and she buys papers for me on a pretty regular basis."

"Could ya do that?!"

"Sure! Remind me to talk to Davey later on about it. I can have the others help me bring them up to your place after work so your mom can cook them."

"That sounds awesome! Thanks, Crutchie!"

Audrey was busy loading her chickens back onto her wagon when she heard the distinctive click-thump of her favorite Newsie's walk. She finished sliding the last crate onto the bed and turned to greet him.

"Good afternoon, Andrew! You're late today," she said. She had a heavy Scottish accent and a kind smile.

"Sorry Ms. Audrey," Crutchie said, pulling the last paper from his bag. He handed it to the kind, middle aged woman. "But I made sure to save one for you."

He handed the woman her paper and she gave him two pennies in return. "How did your selling go today?"

"Reasonably well. I unloaded three hens to a scullery maid for her master's dinner, so that ought to make up for any bad selling in a week to come."

"That's good!" Crutchie grinned. "I must confess why I was tardy today. I have a favor to ask."

Audrey raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What could I possibly help you with? You Newsies aren't often in the habit of chicken rearing."

"No, but this is a special case. I can pay you extra for it, I've been saving up! Though of course if you don't want to, you don't have to, of course, I wouldn't want to be a bother."

Now he had really piqued her interest. What could Andrew of all people need a chicken for?

"Shoot."

"I need to borrow ALL your chickens."

"What in the world?!"

"Hear me out. It's just for tonight, and I don't actually need them killed for food, except two. I want to surprise a friend."

Audrey stared at Crutchie as he laid out his plans to unleash chaos in the Jacobs household and a grin started to spread over her face. "Andrew! I would never have pegged you as a prankster! You're too polite!"

He grinned sheepishly. "That's what everyone says – and it keeps me outta trouble most times. I stole Race's cigar the other day and pretended to be him 'till he got so mad I though steam was gonna come out his ears. Then I knocked it off and smiled at him and he left me alone."

"Mischievous streak- who'd think? You're cute, but you know it, and that's never good," Audrey muttered. She tweaked his ear and laughed. "And this Davey fella that you're about to prank? What's he like?"

"Most responsible, straight-laced, worry-wart, neat-freak you've ever met," Crutchie answered. He knew it was an unfair assessment of his friend, but he also knew that Audrey would never agree to his elaborate scheme unless she knew it was going to be worth a good laugh.

She considered for a moment. "I'm in. Lead the way."

Crutchie impulsively gave Ms. Audrey a quick hug before spinning to start down the street. "You're a saint! Thanks a million! I've gotta stop to get the other guys but I'll meet you back here in a hot minute."

Audrey laughed, "I wouldn't call me a saint, sweetie. We're about to unleash hell."

As soon as Jack saw Crutchie rushing into Newsies Square, he knew his friend was planning something. He was already shaking his head as Crutchie opened his mouth to ask.

"No. Whatever you're up to, I know this is a prank, and I don't want any part in it. No. Just No." Every one of the Newsies had been pranked by Crutchie at some point or another. They were always harmless tricks intended to confuse and amuse rather than cause harm, and so he got away with it too.

"Oh, come ON, Jack! I've got the best thing planned!"

"I don't even wanna hear it!" Jack started walking away from his friend, hands in the air. Last time he had helped Crutchie with one of his schemes, he had ended up dunked in the harbor. He wasn't eager to repeat that particular experience.

Crutchie caught Jack's arm and spoke only two words, confident that it would be enough to persuade his older friend, "Chickens. Davey."

Jack stopped and spun back around. "Davey?"

Crutchie nodded so hard that his hat nearly fell off his head. He quickly readjusted it. "Chickens," he repeated.

Jack gave a long-defeated groan, then gave a slow laugh as he tried to imagine what on earth Crutchie could have cooked up this time. "Alright, alright."

"We're going to need everyone. Are they all back yet?"

"Everyone? Uh, yeah I think so. Crutch- what the hell?"

"Did he, or Les, tell you about the picnic they have planned for tomorrow?" Crutchie asked. Jack nodded, so he continued. "Les asked, and I offered, to pick up some chickens for dinner. And that's exactly what we're going to do!"

"You're gonna prank Davey?!" A younger voice came from behind Crutchie and he spun around.

"If you say anything, you little sneak-"

"Pass up the chance to prank my older brother? Are you kidding me? I'll get him home quick so you can do your thing! This is gonna be great!" Les spun on his heel and sprinted out of Newsie's Square towards Davey's selling spot.

Jack smacked his head with his hand, "You got the kid in on this too?!"

"Now I do!" Crutchie grinned. "You in or what, Jack?"

"I don't suppose I got much of a choice here," Jack laughed. "What the hell- it's not every day you get this great of an opportunity to prank the responsible, mature, sensible, _Davey_. Let's go."

Les quickly found his brother on his street corner and ran up to him. He snatched the last few papes from his brother's bag.

"Hey, what are you doing!?"

"Helping! Remember, you got errands to do this evening, and tomorrow's dinner to help make."

"Yesss," Davey said, with an exasperated look at his younger brother. "I don't forget that sort of thing."

"Well, mom told me not to let you forget. You're always half-dead in the mornings. Oh! And we don't have to get the chicken, Crutchie said he can help with that."

"Oh? Gimmie back my papes," Davey made a half-hearted snatch for them but his little brother dodged out of the way, winked at a girl about his age, and made a sale before Davey could manage to catch up. Davey rolled his eyes. "You've been hanging around Romeo too long."

"Romeo doesn't actually _sell_ when he flirts," Les said, then continued with his story, "Crutchie said he knows the lady who sells 'em and would make a trade. Which means less walking for us, and we can help Sarah and Mom with the cake."

"That's nice of him. And you just want to lick the icing bowl, not help."

Les shrugged. "I helped him with his papes this mornin' too."

"Then shake a leg and finish mine. We've got to get home."

Les did his best to hide his smug smile as he sauntered off to finish selling.

The smell of boiled cabbage and herbs bombarded the boys as they walked in their front door.

"Thank goodness you two are home," their Ma said. She was busy helping Anna to roll out dough. "Did you get everything?"

Davey nodded. "Crutchie will be coming with the chickens later, but we've got everything else."

Their mother nodded and set them onto their own tasks. Davey quickly moved around the small kitchen, driven partially by excitement and partially by nervous energy. His whole family had been planning and looking forward to their annual picnic for almost a month now, and he was eager to introduce them to the rest of the Newsies, but there was so much work to do. Preparing this much food was expensive, and he and his parents had worked harder than usual to save up for the occasion. He wanted to make sure all the food tasted good and nothing went to waste. Everything had to run smoothly – all his hard work was going to pay off. He'd finally have the chance to relax and goof around with his friends. He smiled.

Davey was busy dicing celery when he heard the knock on the door and looked up. His mom and sister were elbow deep in washing dishes, so he set down his knife to answer the front door.

"Hey, Crut-" His greeting was cut off with a gasp as he saw dozens of Newsies all standing on their doorstep, each holding a live chicken. All at once, they let their birds go, and they ran into the small apartment.

Chaos erupted. Sarah and their Ma screamed in surprise and scooped the baby twins off their mat on the floor. Anna and Rebecca shrieked. They jumped around the chickens and Marie started to chase one, shouting "Pet! Pet!" The chickens, scared by the ordeal of being carted up three flights of stairs and then being dropped into a strange room, squawked loud enough to bring the neighbors flooding from the rest of the floor to see what was the commotion.

And in the middle of it all was Crutchie and Les, laughing with the satisfaction of pranking the whole Jacobs family. Crutchie walked up to Davey and poked him in the shoulder. "We got the groceries you asked for," he said, trying to sound casual. Davey could hear the smile in his voice, even before he turned around.

Crutchie beamed at his friend. There was no way Davey could really be mad at him, and he waited for his friend to react.

Davey didn't even crack a grin. He wanted to laugh, but he refused to give Crutchie and his younger brother the satisfaction of knowing they had pranked him. He didn't look at any of the troublemakers. If he had to face them, or look Crutchie in the eye, he knew he would break into a smile and give all the cards away. That wouldn't do.

Rather, he kept a straight face as he snatched a piece of bread from the counter and started tearing it to pieces. He scooped Anna onto his shoulders – Rebecca was already standing on a chair – and tossed the breadcrumbs onto the floor, then filled a small dish with water and set it on the ground. His younger sister clung to his shirt and stuck her tongue out at Les.

The chickens stopped running around the kitchen and settled to peck at the scattered food. Davey swore the whole room let out a sigh of relief, and he pulled Anna off of his back to set her on the chair next to her sister. He turned to his mom, who was still laughing and now fanning herself with her hand.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," she laughed, "Just startled."

"Sarah?"

"I'm good," she managed to say though her giggles. "Les! Where did you get chickens?"

"They're mine," Audrey's voice came from the just outside the door and she pushed her way though the rambunctious boys who were crowding the hallway and hollering with excitement. "Crutchie asked me for this favor, and," she joined the family in their laughter, "I have to say it was worth it."

"He got all of us in on it." Davey spun to see Jack Kelly entering the room too, and if he was surprised to see the leader of the Newsies with chicken feathers stuck to his hat and clothes, he didn't show it.

"Very funny guys," He deadpanned, then turned quickly to get more bread before they could see the grin that was fighting to show itself. "Crutchie, please have your little troop remove these birds from my house."

The shouts and smiles fell off the Newsies faces as they realized that Davey hadn't been phased by the chaos they'd unleashed in the small tenement. Nobody had been known to resist laughing at one of Crutchie's pranks. What kind of willpower?

"Now," Davey asserted. The newsies jumped into action. They disappeared from the landing for a moment and reappeared holding cages. They started herding the birds back into their carrying cases as Davey turned the chicken lady, "How much for 2 of your chickens?"

The boys stopped and looked at him in surprise. How could he be all business after all of the nonsense? He glared at them and they went back to their jobs.

The chicken shook her head and gestured to the birds milling about their feet. "Crutchie already paid for those. You owe me nothing. Take your pick."

Davey looked to his mom, who moved to look over the different birds and picked out her own. The Newsies finished packing up the others in silence and started to filter out of the small room and back down to the street. Crutchie walked up to Davey. He hadn't smiled once since they had arrived. Was he really mad at them? Davey didn't turn to look at him, completely occupied in his task of cleaning the small kitchen. He tried to get his friend's attention, ready to smile at him once again and set everything straight.

Davey knew that Crutchie was trying to get him to crack. He glanced over his shoulder at Les, who was staring at him with a smug smile. Davey put on a fake frown.

"Don't you smile at me, you two," he said.

Crutchie's face fell. He'd messed up. He turned quietly and left.

**A/N:**

**Sorry (not sorry) for leaving you on a cliffhanger but this story turned out to be longer than I expected. I've got the next chapter in the works, so hopefully it'll be up soon. I start my full-time summer job and graduate from high school this week (aaah!) so my schedule is a bit more chaotic than usual.**

**Also, on line 6 of the last chapter, there is a typo that I want to correct. Currently, it reads ****as **_**"Race smiled, and grabbed his sh*t from over the bed railing." **_**That was intended to be "shirt" instead. I apologize for not catching this before I posted it – writing in the car is hard. Thank you to Percie Jean for catching this for me.**


	4. Two Can Play pt 2

The march back to the Lodging House was silent, but as soon as the Newsies got back to the relative privacy of their shared room, everyone started talking at once.

"Did you see the look on their Ma's face?"

"That little girl was screaming! She was so scared of a couple of birds!"

"Who was the other girl? She was funny to watch!"

"The young one was chasing them!"

Even Jack was laughing at their trick. He was wiping his eyes when he noticed Crutchie come into the room – he had been trailing behind, and now Jack could see that he was frowning. He waved and gave a fake smile to the rest of the guys and continued up to their spot on the roof. Jack wished the other boys goodnight and followed Crutchie up to the roof.

"Hey, you alright? What's the matter? That went great!" Jack said to Crutchie. He shook his head.

"Davey didn't even smile."

At this somber reminder, Jack's smile fell as he listened to Crutchie. "Do you think he hates us now? We made an awful mess of his house."

Jack shook his head, "Dave can't hate you for a little trick like that!"

"He refused to look at me! He seemed so angry! We did kinda embarrass him in front of his Ma, and that was the first time they all met us, an' I didn't realize how small their house actually is! It's smaller than this!" Crutchie shifted his weight onto his good leg and gestured to the lodging house with his crutch as he sat down. "And they've got all those kids and we mighta broken something or ruined the food they was makin'!"

He gasped as he though of an even worse possibility, "What if we got Les in trouble?!"

Jack fumbled for words to try and cheer up his friend. He hadn't considered the possibility that they had accidentally brought harm to the generous Jacob's family. He shook his head again. "Nah, that's not it. The rest of em was all laughing, even Mrs. Jacobs. If we had really done something wrong, she woulda been mad too."

"Maybe she's just too polite to yell at us?"

"She ain't like that, Crutchie. She's too honest to fake it. Those were real laughs. You probably made their day!"

Crutchie considered this, still not entirely convinced. "Ya sure about that?"

"Sure! And if you're still worried, you can apologize to him tomorrow when he comes into get his papes. He can tell you for himself that he's not mad." Jack shrugged, "Besides, even if you couldn't prank Davey, you still surprised the rest of the family, and that should count for something right? And you got nearly all of us in on the joke, plus one of your buyers! That's a record for you."

Crutchie nodded, smiling slightly now. "You're right about that – this was the biggest thing I ever pulled off! I'll talk to him tomorrow. Thanks, Jack."

Jack smiled. "That was the most fun I've had in a while. I'm glad you convinced me."

Now Crutchie gave him a smug smile, "You never were going to be able to resist me! I knew you was comin whether you wanted to or not."

"Aw, shut up and go to sleep."

Davey turned to Les as soon as the Newsies had all left the apartment and the door been shut behind them, finally cracking a smile at his younger brother.

"You should have known that pranking me wasn't going to work," he said.

"Oh, I know you don't react to this stuff anymore. Not after my trick on April Fools last year. I wanted to prank Crutchie!"

Davey laughed at his devious little brother and gave him a high five. "We pranked all of them. The look on their faces was priceless!"

"Did you see Race glaring at me? I thought he was about to soak me."

"Nah, you played surprised too when I didn't react. I don't know if they caught on yet." Davey clapped his hands in excitement. "I'm not through milking this though, tomorrow I'm going to play dumb. If they try to bring it up to me, I'm going to pretend that absolutely nothing happened."

"Really! Ohh, this is gonna be great! They're going to be so mad!"

Sarah shook her head. "You two are awful. That _was _funny."

"It's going to be even funnier tomorrow when I claim that chickens just don't exist," Davey said. He placed the pile of feathers he had collected on the table. "Save these. We're going to need them."

Crutchie paced nervously around Newsies Square the next morning, trying to ignore the dull ache in his leg as he waited for Davey and Les to arrive. He hoped that their picnic wouldn't get rained out, though he already expected that it would, and he wasn't looking forward to the brother's disappointment.

He had mentally rehearsed his apology a dozen times that morning, but the minute he saw Davey's tall figure stride around the corner, it all flew out of his mind. He rushed to his friend.

"Hey, I'm sorry about last night," he said, "I didn't mean to break anything or get you in trouble and I'm sorry I didn't think that through."

Davey smiled at Crutchie with a puzzled look as Les ran off to greet the other Newsies. "What are you apologizing for?"

"Well, I was 'fraid that I mighta made a mess or something, and your mom was mad at you after we left, and maybe you'd be mad at me too," Crutchie explained. He rubbed his hands together nervously.

"Why would I be mad at you? Nothing happened last night?"

Crutchie sighed in relief, "That's good! Jack told me not to worry cause your ma was laughing at us too-"

Davey looked increasingly confused as Crutchie continued to talk about the night before. Various Newsies started crowding around them, hoping to overhear the conversation.

"When did you meet my ma?" He interrupted.

Now it Crutchie's turn to look puzzled. "Last night? When we tried to surprise you?"

"You didn't surprise me," Davey insisted.

"Ya, I know that! You didn't even grin when we all showed up at your front door with chickens!"

The other Newsies, including Les, began to chorus their agreement, each bringing up a different part of their misadventure, and babbling over each other in their attempts to remind Davey. He stood in the middle of their crowd, slowly shaking his head.

"Chickens? Crutchie, I have no idea what you're talking about," Davey's face was completely earnest, "You weren't at my house last night! Much less with chickens! I don't believe they exist!"

"Dave, what the hell? Did you bust up your brains or something?" Jack asked. "As I recall, Dave, your family was in hysterics – and that's one of your words, not mine."

"What? No. Are you _all_ in on this? I swear if this is some sort of elaborate prank-"

Davey rolled his eyes, then brightened again. "Hey, I almost forgot to ask you guys – my family is having a big picnic tonight to celebrate the twin's birthdays. Jonah and Isaiah are turning two, and Anna is turning 11 next month. You're all invited! We're going to meet up in Central Park after work hours."

Jack and Crutchie looked at each other in baffled amazement as their friends fell silent. Jack rubbed a hand over his face in exhaustion. "This is hopeless," he muttered.

Davey didn't speak for a second as he took in the sight of everyone's confused and exasperated expressions and decided he'd played his own little joke long enough. He finally broke his façade and started laughing. Poor Crutchie jumped backwards half-a-step in surprise, which only made Davey laugh harder. Les joined in and Race turned on him and gave him a friendly punch in the arm.

"You little sneak! You knew he was gonna play dumb, didn't you?"

"I knew he wasn't gonna react last night either! You shoulda seen your faces!"

Jack laughed now and shook his head again. "How were you able to keep a straight face that long, Dave?"

"I think the bigger question is how you managed to keep the straight face after Crutchie smiled at you," Race grumbled. "He took my Coronas once but I couldn't even stay mad at him."

Crutchie smiled at Race again, "I gave 'em back! That's more than Albert does sometimes!"

"Hey!" Albert started to protest, but Davey cut him off.

He pointed at Les. "When you live with this kid, you learn really quick that giving him the satisfaction of pranking you only makes you a bigger target."

Crutchie laughed and raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'll keep that in mind next time. Maybe I just need a better prank."

The picnic was a massive success. Ms. Jacobs, Rebecca, and Anna left their jobs in the factory a little earlier than usual to pick up Marie and the twins from the convent school then began to haul their food to Central Park where they met Sarah and their father. They had left earlier in order to make the long walk in time and had set up a picturesque spot near the park gates. It didn't take long for the other Newsies to make their way there after they had finished their day's selling.

Crutchie and Jack were among the first to arrive and apologized once again for the chaos of the prior night. Sarah smiled and assured them that all was well, and soon Crutchie was deep in conversation with Mr. Jacobs. It looked like the rain would hold of long enough for them to enjoy their night, and he was in a good mood Davey and Les came soon after. Other Newsies came in waves, introducing themselves and taking small plates of food gratefully, then receiving heaping portions of seconds from Ms. Jacobs, who wouldn't take no for an answer.

"I refuse to carry leftovers back home," she said cheerfully, heaping yet another spoon of potato salad onto Henry's plate. "This basket is heavy enough as it is."

After dinner, someone started a game of tag and it only took a few minutes for everyone to start sprinting away from Anna who unfortunately found herself as "It." She couldn't catch up to the older Newsies and started to stomp away in defeat when Jack swept her up onto his shoulders and started sprinting after the others. She shrieked in delight as they rounded close enough for her to tag Race on the head as he tried to dodge away from Jack and stuck her tongue out at him as her new friend carried her to the safe base that was the bench where Crutchie and her father sat, whooping and cheering on the game.

Racetrack easily caught up to Specs, and shouted "freeze," as he sprinted past. Specs skidded to a stop and narrowly avoided falling over, and Race quickly froze Mush, Buttons, and Finch. Despite Jack and Davey's best efforts to rescue the others, it was only a matter of time until everyone had tired out and dropped to the ground in frozen defeat. Race was celebrating his victory when Ms. Jacobs called everyone back to their spot for dessert.

She and Sarah began to pull dozens of miniature pies from the picnic basket and passing them out to their guests, who eagerly dug into their own little treats. Sarah pulled Crutchie's from the basket last.

"We saved the best one for you!" she said with a winning smile and Davey nodded.

"We wanted to make sure you knew there were no hard feelings for last night," he added. "Go on, try it!"

Crutchie smiled and voiced his thanks before taking the tempting brown crust of the pastry that was dusted with sugar and crimped around the edges. Sarah must be a wonderful chef – she ought to go to work at a fancy restaurant one day. He bit in eagerly, only to find himself tasting a mouthful of feathers.

He recoiled in surprise, letting the surprise filling drop from his mouth. Davey didn't attempt to stifle his laughter this time and Sarah's smug smile was too wide to hide. Crutchie tried to politely wipe the traces of feathers from his tongue and shook his finger at the two.

"Very funny, very funny," he laughed, unable to conceal his own smile now. "Get back at me with my own prank, I see how it goes."

"Two can play at this game," Davey said. "But when you pick on me, you pick on all of us. You wouldn't imagine what Sarah can cook up."

At this, Sarah pulled another pie from the basket and handed it to Crutchie. He squinted at it in suspicion. "This one's strawberry," she assured him. "No more pranks. I think we're even."

Crutchie laughed and took the treat from her as he shook her hand. "Even."

**A/N:**

**I hope you liked this silly short story! I had a lot of fun writing it! Writing a slice of life proved tricky because there are so few moments in the play when we see the characters completely relaxed, and while I wanted to explore the more ridiculous sides of Crutchie and Davey, I also wanted to keep them in-character. Let me know what you think, and thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed so far!**


	5. Homelands

Davey frowned as he stuffed old rags into the windowsill. Rain splattered against the pain and leaked in through the cracks around the frame, and Les already slipped on the puddle collecting on the floor earlier that night. Hopefully these would sop up some of the mess, and he made a mental note to find something to patch up the holes properly tomorrow. The humidity and heat of the mid-August weather was near-stifling in the crowded upper room of the Lodging house, but he didn't want to risk prying open the old window and breaking it further, not to mention the puddles that would quickly collect on the floor. Instead, he loosened the collar of his shirt and made a mental note to get home early on nights that looked like rain. Davey and Les dallied too long in returning their unsold papes that night, and now they were stuck in the lodging house for overnight as they waited out the second thunderstorm that week.

He hoped his parents would assume they were here, safe and relatively dry - he didn't want them to worry and there wasn't anywhere else that they would realistically be – but he still felt responsible for telling them where he and Les were. He shrugged as he finished his task. He would just have to ask for forgiveness tomorrow night.

Davey started back through the narrow walkways between the bunks. He checked on Les, who was already fast asleep and laying nearly on top of Sniper, but when he stopped short when he heard a sniffling noise. Was that crying? He looked around for the source of the noise, and soon found it coming from under a threadbare blanket on one of the top bunks. This must be one of the younger newsies, though which one he couldn't be sure as he hadn't learned all their names quite yet. He tapped the boy on the shoulder.

"Hey, are you alright?"

The boy made a quick gasping sound and rolled over to face the wall. He started feigning sleep in the hopes to get Davey to go away. Thunder rattled the building. Maybe the boy was just scared, but talking to a stranger might not be the best way to relax him. Davey decided to find someone else to help him.

He made his way back through the narrow walkways between the bunks until he found Jack's bed. He was busy sketching Race, who was half asleep on his own bed across from him – Race might be a morning person but heaven help the poor sod who spoke to him after 10:30. Davey knocked on the bedframe to get Jack's attention. He looked up and smiled.

"Check out this sleepyhead," Jack said, holding up his paper in smug satisfaction. He'd drawn a caricature of his friend, foot hanging off the top bunk of bed, blankets only half-pulled up around him, hair a tousled mess, an unlit cigar about to fall from his fingers, hat pulled down over his face. Davey laughed.

"That's a faithful rendition." Davey laughed and pulled the cigar from Race's hand. He set it on the bed stand at the end of the row of bunks that the 4 boys shared. Davey pointed an accusing finger at Albert, who was already eyeing it up. "Don't you dare. I don't want to be woken up tomorrow when he finds out you snitched it."

"I would never!" Albert protested, before saying something in fast Portuguese that Davey was sure couldn't be very flattering.

Davey shook his head and turned back to Jack. "Hey, there's a little kid over here who seems really upset, but he won't talk to me. Do you know what's up?"

Jack shrugged and gestured at Crutchie with his pen, who was sitting across from them on the bottom bunk, talking quietly with Jojo about his day. "If anyone's gonna know, it's him."

"He's a new kid – just started a few days ago. We found him after you went home one day on the doorstep. Can't seem to speak English, or else won't talk to us, and we don't even know his name. But he sells all ten papes we give him, somehow." Crutchie said, looking toward the direction from where Davey had come.

"I think he speaks Italian!" Jojo said. Crutchie looked up in surprise. "I was talking to myself in Spanish this morning, and he seemed to understand part of what I was saying. Only said a few words, but he's probably just shy. I can try to translate, if you want?"

"That would be great," Davey said. The three started to move back to the boys bed, and Davey reached up to the top bunk to tap the kid on the shoulder. He peeked out from under the cover. Davey smiled at him and motioned for him to take the blanket off from over his head, "Hey… We just want to talk. Can you come out?"

The kid nodded and lifted the blanket off slowly. He had a slight frame, warm brown skin with freckles dusted across his nose, and curly black hair that fell about his ears. He crossed his arms expectantly.

"Can you ask him why he was crying?" Dave asked Jojo. He nodded quickly as translated for the younger boy.

"Non stavo piangendo," he said. Davey raised his eyebrows and looked at Jojo expectantly. He just shrugged.

"I got nothing."

"Ask him his name," Crutchie said. The boy seemed to understand this

"Antonio Gerard Sisca."

"Where is he from?"

"De donde eres?"

The boy shrugged and started to explain in rapidfire Italian. Jojo frowned and replied in Spanish, making hand motions to slow down. The exchange continued for a little while as Davey and Crutchie watched in confusion. They seemed to be switching between Italian, Spanish, English, and what Davey could have sworn was Latin whenever they found a common word. Antonio nodded and gestured wildly as he tried to explain himself and Jojo responded in turn. Eventually, he turned back to the two older boys.

"He says he's from a town in Italy that I don't recognize – Calabria? Or maybe that's another word? I think he's only been in America for a few months but he doesn't like it here and keeps getting lost in the city so he doesn't know where he lives. I didn't catch what he said about his family and he told us to go away because he's fine, though I think he used some choicer words." Jojo frowned as he relayed the bad news.

Davey smiled gently at Antonio. "We just want to make sure you're alright."

"And we want him to know that he's welcome here, and if he needs help to find his family, we can get him home. He's probably scared," Crutchie added. Jojo translated, and had another short conversation with Antonio. They had to repeat several words, but seemed to reach a conclusion.

"He says his dad isn't coming back so it's no use. He wants to go back home – I think he means back to Italy, but we can't do that."

"Do you have a mother?"

He shook his head. "Non qui. In Calabria."

"Calabria's your old town? Do you have other family here?"

Antonio shook his head, lower lip sticking out now as he tried to hold back tears.

"Why don't you tell us about your home?" Davey offered, "We can't send you back there, but maybe we can help you feel a little less lonely?" Jojo tried to translate.

Antonio curled his knees up to his chest, draped the blanket over his shoulders, and rested his chin on his hands. "Domani è la festa dell'assunzione, e in casa abbiamo una bella parata dove i sacerdoti prendono la Beata Vergine intorno alla città su una cucciolata con fiori. Ero un chierichetto e tenere il bruciatore di incenso. Non posso farlo ora, e non so nemmeno come si trova la Basilica."

Jojo's brow furrowed as he tried to puzzle out the meaning behind the familiar sounding words, and his face brightened as the last pieces finally slid into place. "Eres Catolico! Te puedo llevar a la Basílica mañana para la Misa antes trabajo si quieres!" He switched to the ecclesiastical Latin that he knew Antonio would recognize, "Deo Gratias!"

Antonio nodded excitedly and smiled as he began to understand Jojo's words. "Grazie!"

Crutchie smiled at Antonio, pleased that they finally had a means of communication, however indirect it may seem. He tapped Jojo on the shoulder. "Do you mind filling us in?"

"He misses home because it's a feast day tomorrow, and he won't be able to celebrate with his town, but I offered to take him to church with me and he seems pleased with that," Jojo explained. His Spanish accent lingered on the words as he switched languages again. "It won't be exactly the same experience as back in Italy, but Mass is the same everywhere in the world! Maybe it'll help him feel a little more at home?"

Davey brightened. He quickly took off his hat and pulled a thin chain from inside his shirt. He pulled it from around his neck; a small medal hung from the end of the chain. He passed it to Antonio, who's eyes widened in surprise. He took the warm necklace from Davey and turned it over in his hand to look at the imprint on the small piece of metal. "È una medaglia miracolosa?" he asked. That, Davey could understand. He nodded.

"You can have it. It's from my old home in Poland." Antonio seemed to understand this. He smiled and pulled the medal over his own head.

"Jack told me that you was Jewish," Crutchie said to Davey, the statement being more of clarification than actual statement.

"My heritage is Jewish, yes, and we still practice a lot of it. My Ma converted to Catholicism shortly before she married my father, and I went to the Catholic school for a little while until-" He caught himself, "Until I started working here."

Crutchie nodded in understanding. Antonio pointed at Davey. "You? Immigrant?" He asked in heavily-accented English, then he pointed to Jojo, "You too?"

They both nodded. "I don't know where I'm from," Jojo admitted. "The nuns raised me when they found me on their front step with nothing but a name tag and a blanket, babbling in Spanish. Sister Francesca taught me English. She's from Spain so she could understand me." He repeated his explanation in Spanish so Antonio could understand a little bit. They had to repeat words back to each other several times, but eventually they came to an understanding.

"Most of us are immigrants," Crutchie added. "I'm Welsh. I miss it sometimes, hearing the old bards tell stories to music, but that's what we do now right?!" He looked around the lodging house to see who was still awake.

"That's right!" Finch said. He lay on the top bunk across the row from Antonio. "I lived in France before I came here. I didn't come with family, and they was all surprised when I knew how to survive on the streets. But theys took me in and gave me a home and that was something I didn't have back in France. Wouldn't trade it for nothin'."

"I came from Portugal with my papa," Albert said, "He's a sailor and was gone for so long I don't expect him to come back no more."

"Ils ont volé un bateau une fois! Il est un pirate!" Finch piped up. Davey raised his eyebrows at the mention of the word "Pirate" though he caught nothing else, and started to ask what that meant, but Albert barked back at Finch in rapid-fire French before he could ask.

"I'm Polish too!" Elmer said helpfully. "Though I didn't immigrate; my parents did. I've got 8 siblings at home and we all work. Mom and Dad can't barely read, so they can only get factory jobs which don't do a lot when you've got so many mouths to feed. I moved out to help with rent, but I visit on weekends, and these boys is my brothers as much as my blood siblings."

Jojo struggled to keep up with the conversation and gave up trying to translate entirely as several conversations started in at least 3 different languages. Antonio shrugged and smiled at him to let him know it was alright. He understood well enough. Gesturing to the whole of the Newsie's Lodging House, he asked one last question.

"Famiglia?"

"Famiglia," Jojo affirmed.

**A/N:**

**Thank you for being patient with this chapter! I only know a little bit of Spanish and Italian and had to rely heavily on translating software in order to write this chapter, but I tried my best to double check everything for accuracy. I apologize if I messed up anything, and please feel free to let me know in the comments if I did.**


	6. Lessons Learned pt 1

Davey and Les hurried into the circulation floor just as the headline was being put up – late by any standard. They rounded the corner just in time to hear Jack shout, "Henry Bliss is the first man recorded to die in an automobile accident!"

"Ooh! Death is good!" Albert said, "That'll sell lots of papes!"

"Who the hell is Henry Bliss?" Elmer asked. "Why would people care?"

"We won't say that part, idiot!" Albert countered.

"Just play up the gore, yeah, yeah I know."

"Is it nice and bloody! With a clear picture?" Specs asked, a little too eagerly for Davey's liking. He shook his head. It was too early in the morning for this nonsense. He nursed his cup of watery coffee from a quiet corner of the circulation floor. Maybe there would be something a little less morbid on page 2.

The gaggle of newsboys soon broke up as Weasel and the Delancey brothers rolled the stacks of papes onto the floor. Les pulled on Davey's sleeve, and he groggily handed his brother their allowance of coins from the last day. Les rushed forward to get their papes and greet Antonio, leaving his sleep-deprived brother in some relative quiet for a few minutes. The two youngest newsies had become great friends and Antonio was learning English faster than anyone could have expected, but their infectious energy was a bit much for Davey to handle this early in the morning.

He sat back to watch the Newsies go about their morning business. Finch, Sniper, and Elmer were already trying to pick a fight with the Delanceys. Henry and Jojo were finishing the remains of their breakfasts. And Crutchie was helping Race sound out the day's headline.

Wait a minute.

Davey woke up a little more now. Race was the same age as him. Even his baby sister Marie knew how to read, and she was only _five._ Maybe he had seen wrong? No, Crutchie was definitely moving his finger slowly along the headline and speaking each word slowly. Race smiled and thanked Crutchie, snatched up his papers and ran off to start selling. Crutchie fetched his own papes and started to walk out.

Davey quickly collected his share of papes from Les and followed Crutchie out of the circulation floor, waving a hasty good-morning to the rest of the boys. "Hey, I've got a question."

"Good morning to you too, sleepyhead," Crutchie said, smiling. "Shoot."

"Can't Race read?"

Crutchie shook his head. "Not many of 'em can. Or write much more their names. Why?"

Davey stopped for a second baffled. He'd never imagined not being able to read or write – his mother had books in his hand as young as he could hold them and… Right. He mentally berated himself for forgetting that most of the Newsies were orphans. They'd never had someone to teach them to read.

"It just surprised me, that's all. Sorry I asked," Davey said hastily. "That was mean of me."

"Nah, it's alright. What was so surprising?"

"Just the irony of it all. These boys hawk a publication they can't even read!"

Crutchie shrugged. "That's why Jack yells the headlines in the mornin' like he does. Race just didn't hear it over Albert's yellin'. Besides, headlines and stories and stuff don't _really _sell papes. _Newsies _sell papes."

"I suppose that makes sense." They walked for a second in silence as Davey thought it over. "No! No, it doesn't make sense. If they can't read, then how were they so excited about Katherine's article being published during the strike? They couldn't have known if she wrote a satire piece or if it actually said anything of substance about the principle or was just a drama story. They just took it on trust?"

"Yeah, mostly trust. And we had you there to check it for us. And it had to have been good to make it onto the front page – above the fold too – that's just logic."

"But!"

"Dave, we know that_ where_ the story is inthe pape is what sells it – you don't read the headlines from the sports section unless you're Race selling at Sheepshead. We got our front-page story! We got the publicity, right? It worked!"

Davey shook his head. "It's the principle of the thing, Crutchie. I don't know why I'm askin' you, you weren't there at Jacobi's celebratin' about the article after it came out. You took the fall for all of us."

"I'd do it again."

Davey sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm too tired to be talking; I'm just saying stupid stuff."

"Hey, it's alright. You're really hung up on this whole reading thing, ain't ya?"

"That's another thing! Where did you learn how to read?"

"Jack taught me. He learned from his parents back in Ireland and picked up English when he came here as a kid. He was only a newsie a year before he found me, and we've been brothers since."

"Hmmm."

"Any other questions? Daylight's burning," Crutchie asked. They'd reached the corner that he normally sold at in the mornings and he was ready to start his day's work.

"Nah. I just can't imagine it. None of 'em could read Katherine's article for themselves, none of 'em can understand her words."

"Dave, I think we understand just fine."

"You know what I mean."

"Look, if it's bothering you so much, you could teach 'em. I'm sure they'd be willing to learn."

"Really? I've never taught-"

"Don't lie, I bet you taught all your younger siblings through example if nothing else. I'll talk to Jack later. I'm sure he'd be fine with it too."

"Thanks, Crutchie. Though I'd probably just want to teach Race at first. I don't know if I'd be able to handle all of the boys at once."

"Sure thing," Crutchie smiled at him, "Now scram. We've got work to do."

Davey stopped home after lunch to collect the things he would need for that evening's lesson. Only his dad and younger three siblings were at home, Ma and the older girls busy working at the factory, and they paid him little mind as he collected slates, chalk, stubs of pencils, old reams of half-used paper, and other supplies that might be necessary. He glanced at his own schoolbooks in the box under the bed before deciding to leave them there, guilt knawing at his stomach for being selfish. An old classmate brought him make-up work in exchange for a free paper every day, and he intended to keep up his own studies while working.

He could spare those materials, and Davey knew Les would be happy to give up his own temporarily, so he shrugged his conscience aside. He wasn't looking forward to carrying what he did have around all day, but he assured himself that it would be worth it. Satisfied, Davey packed up his loot and hit the streets. He still had 20 papers to sell, and if he wanted to run reading lessons on a regular basis, he would have to sell them all now to make up for lost time.

Sure enough, between the attention-grabbing headline and the nice early September weather, he easily finished before nightfall. He started scheming as he walked back to Newsie Square, speaking Polish under his breath as he went. What was he thinking trying to teach English reading? English wasn't even his first language – he'd learnt at school after arriving in New York when he was six years old!

Davey thought back to how he had learned to read. Letters first, then learning how to put together simple sounds to make three- and four-letter words. At some point he'd learnt the different combination sounds like "ch" and "sh" and "ee." Then there were the words that came up so often you just had to memorize them. The nuns had little cards on rings – maybe he could make those tomorrow. Or ask the nuns for an old set.

And then there were the stories! Marie didn't have any of the simple books that he had learned out of years ago, but maybe he could write his own. He could start with something easy… like the strike! Race knew the story already, so the familiarity would help him focus on the words themselves.

"J-A-C-K" Davey whispered to himself. "S-T-R-I-K-E. Strike. P-A-P-E-R. Paper. B-U-L-L-S. Bulls. Those should be easy enough to learn. And of course, I can work with the headlines each day. And Katherine's article! Though she's rather loquacious, so I won't start with that."

It was too late to write anything now, but tonight's lesson would just be figuring out how much Race already knew and going over basics. Then they could work up from there. With a plan laid out, Davey's nerves eased slightly.

"I can't leave him any worse off than he already is," Davey assured himself, "This is going to be fun!"

"Hey, Race! Get over here, Davey wants ya!" Jack's voice cut through the chatter of the lodging house and pulled his friend away from the card game he'd been playing with Albert. Race stomped across the room and dropped to an empty bunk.

"This better be good. I'm about to scrub the floor with Albert."

"_Somebody _told the Brain that you can't read and he's taken it upon himself to educate ya."

Davey put a hand over his eyes in exasperation. He expected Jack to get Race's attention, but not quite like that. Crutchie gave him the smile of a smug looking cat as Race raised an eyebrow. "That ain't a good idea."

"Why not?"

Race shrugged and started to get up. "Well… you know. I'm not a bookish type like you. Reading ain't really my thing."

Davey pulled him back down, starting to fear that all his planning and preparations would be for naught. "Don't you want to be able to read the headlines for yourself in the mornings?"

"That's what I got you guys for."

"What about Katherine's article?"

"We know what it says."

"Signs? Prices that the vendors put up? The rest of the paper?"

Race shrugged again, eager to get out of this interrogation. "I've gotten along alright without knowing that sort of thing."

"What about learning new things?"

"I know everything I think I need to, thank ya very much." Race crossed his arms stubbornly. He didn't need some know-it-all like Dave telling him what to do.

Davey shook his head in exasperation. "I don't get why you wouldn't want to know how to read, Race!"

He frowned. "What about some squiggly lines on a page makes you think you're so much better than us?"

"That's not it at all!"

"I've survived a whole sixteen years without understanding type! Why should I learn now?" Race protested.

Davey gave a long-suffering sigh and started to reach for the bag of supplies. This was hopeless and he couldn't understand why Race was acting so defensive. Mercifully, Crutchie chose that moment to interject.

"Because you got a willing teacher. He doesn't have to be here right now. Les is back home, having dinner with their folks and going to bed, and Dave's sittin' right here trying to educate you a little because he _cares_."

Race's stubborn scowl fell from his face, just a little bit, as Crutchie's guilt-trip sank in. He continued talking, "He's offering you something that we can't, Race. And when you can't be a Newsie any more, or when we're not around, you're gonna have to know how. If you have to learn sometime, why don't you learn from a friend?"

Jack nodded in agreement and gave Race a pointed look that said part, "Crutchie's right, you know," and partially, "Stop being such a jerk _this instant_, young man." Race withered under the glare and uncrossed his arms in defeat.

"Albert! Deal me out for next round. I'mma be a while."

Davey smiled at Crutchie and Jack in thanks before moving to get back out the supplies. "Let's start with the alphabet."

Two weeks later, and Race had made little progress. Every time Davey showed him how to write out the different letters and how they sounded, he couldn't replicate it. The small chalk-board slate was filled, erased, and re-filled with lines of Race's horribly messy, cramped printing, backwards letters, and misspellings.

They sat together early one morning before the circulation bell rang. Race held the chalk awkwardly and tried to scratch out the line "I am up at bat now." Davey slumped forward; head propped up by his hand as he tried to focus on what Race was doing.

"You wrote a 'd' instead of a 'b' again. And 'now' is spelled N-O-W, not M-O-W," he mumbled. Race groaned, erased the wrong letters, and tried again. The chalk snapped as he ground it against the slate. He dropped it and threw the slate to the ground. It shattered. Davey jumped up in surprise.

"What did you do that for?!"

"This is stupid! I'm done!"

"You didn't have to break my slate just because I corrected you!" He knelt to pick up the pieces. Maybe something could be salvaged? Race really had some nerve-

"I'm not doing this letter nonsense!" he insisted. "It's no use!"

"I get that you're frustrated, but you can't quit just because you haven't become Henry David Thoreau overnight!"

"I don't even know who that is! It don't matter anyway, you shouldn't waste your time teaching me. I'll never get it!"

"You just need time!"

"I've tried, Dave! Jack and Crutchie and Specs have all tried teaching me a dozen times and I never get it. All the letters are flipping and lookin alike and I can't even tell 'em apart. There's too many of them. And then when you put it together I don't know which ones sound like what!"

"If you practice-"

"Look," Race's voice fell soft again. He didn't want to upset Davey by getting into a shouting argument. "I really tried my best, and it's not your fault that the letters still won't stay still. I just ain't smart like you are." He bent to help Davey collect the pieces of the broken slate.

"The letters don't _move,_" Davey argued. "You're just not used to them all yet. You'll get it in time, I promise! It's not that hard."

"Its really hard, and I can't read." Race shoved the pieces in his direction and walked away. "I'm sorry you had to waste your time on me like that. It's really no use."

Davey found himself wandering around New York later that night, completely lost in thought over the events of that morning. Letters can't move. Ink on a page can't flip directions. So why was Race struggling so much to copy simple lines and symbols? Nothing made sense. Could it be possible that he was actually seeing the page differently? Specs wore glasses because he saw differently. His eyes couldn't make the world look clear and crisp so he had to adjust somehow in order to see. Maybe Race was the same way, just with letters? He couldn't imagine how that could be possible. Race's eyes were just fine when it came to seeing other things. And he wasn't stupid by any stretch of the imagination. So why couldn't he read?

When he looked up, Davey realized that he was in the neighborhood where his family's old doctor lived. Maybe Dr. Starek was home. Maybe he could help. Davey took the stairs up to his apartment two at a time and knocked on the door. Soon, it opened to reveal a kindly-looking old man with a long white beard wearing a tweed overcoat and spectacles.

"Good afternoon, David!" He said, speaking Polish. He motioned for David to come in and have a seat at the table. "What brings you here? Is your family doing well?"

"My family is fine, thank you. I had a quick question for you, though I'm not sure if you can help me." Davey responded in the same language. Dr. Starek raised an eyebrow and he took that as a cue to continue talking. "I was trying to teach a friend to read earlier, and he kept saying such a peculiar thing – that the letters were moving and flipping around on the page. I thought maybe it could be a medical problem, like when someone wears glasses because their eyes don't see right, but I wasn't sure if that could really be a thing."

Dr. Starek frowned thoughtfully. "That is strange. I don't believe that could be a medical issue, though it could possibly be psychological."

"Psycholo-" David tried to repeat the word. It sounded big and important and he wanted to commit it to memory.

"Psychological. Pertaining to the mind and brain," Dr. Starek explained. "It's a newer field of study, and so much has been unexplored, but there are a few publications concerning new research." He moved from the table to fetch a small booklet from his shelf. "This is a German journal that came in the mail a few days ago. I haven't had the chance to read it yet. Perhaps there's something in here that could help?"

Davey took it from the doctor and began to scan the titles of the articles. His knowledge of the language was limited at best, but it was similar enough to English and Polish that he could guess. "What about this? Wortblindheit?"

"Word-blindness," Dr. Starek translated, reading over Davey's shoulder. He scanned the article. "It mentions the British Medical Journal's article _Congenital Word Blindness_ as well." He fetched that book from the shelf as well and the two fell to work comparing the research. Davey left much later that evening with a paper full of notes scribbled in the margins and much lighter spirits. He rushed back to the circulation floor. It was nearly dark and he still had unsold papers, but he didn't much care and soon sold them back to Wiesel. He ran up to Race and held up his paper full of notes.

"Race, I'm an idiot!" He exclaimed cheerfully. Race turned around with a completely baffled look on his face.

"I thought I was the dumb one," he deadpanned, then tried to crack a reconciliatory smile. "Hey, no hard feelings about this morning, right?"

"What? No, of course not! I figured it out!"

"Figured what out?"

"You're _dyslexic!"_ Davey exclaimed as if that explained everything. He pointed at his notes. "See!"

Race shook his head and squinted at the paper, then back up at his friend, then back at the paper. He couldn't believe that Davey expected him to read his scribbles and understand what on earth he was going on about. "Is that a polite way of calling me stupid?"

Davey laughed. "No, it means you're normal. I know how to help you now."

"Really?" Race asked, still skeptical.

"Absolutely. I'm sorry for trying to rush you and getting impatient. That wasn't fair of me. I've been blessed to have the education I've got, and I was expecting you to do the same when you never had anyone to read with you before."

"Hey, it's alright," Race gave him a real smile this time. "I'm the one who got angry and broke your slate. I owe you an apology too."

"Do you want to try again tomorrow morning?" Davey asked. "I won't push you if you don't want to, but I really think I know how to teach you now."

Race nodded, "If you of all people are willing to wake up early to spend the time on me, then I suppose trying again is the least I can do." He spit into his hand and held it out for a shake.

Davey did the same. "Deal."

Months of frustration and practice later, Race's finger traced over an old newspaper as he read the last word in Katherine's article on his own. He looked up at Davey, who was standing over his shoulder, beaming with pride.

That evening, Davey found a small scrap of paper inside of his bag, marked with the familiar and unmistakable handwriting of his favorite student.

_Tank you for not givnig uq on me. - RACE_

**A/N:**

**Sorry for the delayed update; work has kept me really busy lately. I did a lot of research for this story, from figuring out exactly what the headline was on September 2****nd,**** 1899 to when the word "dyslexia" was first coined, and I'm really happy with how it turned out. This chapter is dedicated to my younger sister, Isabella, who overcame severe dyslexia and is now learning Latin medical terminology (of all the things!) for her nursing program. She also encouraged me to start posting fanfic so if you like this, be sure to leave a review thanking her. ;)**

**Thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed!**


	7. Lessons Learned pt 2

**A/N:**

**This chapter has a fight-scene in it. There's not gratuitous violence, and it's short lived so I'm maintaining a PG rating, but just wanted to give everyone a heads up before the chapter started. Enjoy the story!**

"How many papes do you got left?" Les asked Davey as they walked along the streets of Manhattan. The sun was setting and the cold November breeze bit through their thin coats.

Davey slung his bag off his shoulder to look in and re-count though he had been ticking down the numbers in his mind all day. The bag wasn't that heavy but his back needed a rest – he'd taken 60 papes today because he wanted to save up for Hanukkah and Christmas presents for his younger siblings and his shoulders ached. "Six. How about you."

"Only one."

"We should go back to the circulation floor before it gets too late and return these. Ma will be getting worried."

"We've got a little more time!" Les protested. "We can sell them!"

"Your teeth are chattering," Davey pointed out as he rubbed his own hands together, trying to shake the numbness from his fingers. "We're going to sell these, but we're selling them back to Weasel. There's no one out on the streets in this weather. Then we're going to go home and put you under some blankets. Maybe Ma has some soup for us."

Les pouted as Davey led him back home. He could make just one or two more sales. Then they could go straight home and get warm even faster! A sliver of light caught his eye. A man staggered from the door of a nearby restaurant. This was his chance. He snatched his last pape from his bag and ran up to the man as Davey tried and failed to pull him back.

"Care to buy a pape from a poor freezing orphan?" Les said. "Great headline today! Trolley careens off its tracks and kills three nearby workers!" He coughed into his arm for dramatic effect. The irony of his improvised headline didn't escape him. The trolley workers had much better working conditions ever since their strike and Davey talked _endlessly_ about how safe they were.

The man distractedly grabbed the paper from Les and tossed him a penny. Les gave a short thanks as he started to walk back to Davey with an _I told ya so_ grin on his face. The man spun back on him.

"That aint the headline ya little liar!"

Les dropped the grin from his face and started walking faster towards Davey. He rushed over to his little brother. He _knew_ all this "Improving the truth" nonsense would lead to trouble one day. Why did it have to involve him? Davey resisted the urge to strangle Les as he wrapped an arm around him protectively and approached the angry man who was now waving the rolled up pape at them.

"I'm sorry about my brother, sir. He was talking about a different trolley out of state," Davey lied easily. His mothers "Mom-tras" echoed in his head: _Two wrongs don't make a right. Let your "Yes" mean yes, and your "no" mean no._ How else was he supposed to get Les out of this situation? Admit, "Yep, my brother is an absolute idiot and lied to your face because he thought you were stupid enough to believe that line. Have at him."? That wouldn't work, and so he plunged on with his own story.

"We were swapping headlines with a different paper earlier today, and he's gotten them mixed up." Davey snatched the penny from his brother's hand and offered it back to the man. "Our apologies."

The man took the penny back, grumbled something incomprehensible, and turned away. Les pulled his brother off of him and they started walking way quickly.

"He was mean," Les remarked. Davey glared at him, but it was too late. The man had already spun around.

"What did you say to me?" He roared. He grabbed Les by the shoulder and tried to rip him from Davey. He pulled his little brother behind him. Before he could reply, the man grabbed his lapel and dragged Davey forward until his face hovered only an inch from his own.

"I'll teacha ta disrespect me," He said. His voice slurred and his breath stank of alcohol. Davey tried to squirm out of the man's grip. He twisted around to look for Les. His younger brother was standing in shock.

"Run."

Les shook his head. He wasn't going to leave Davey behind. He wasn't.

The man cocked his arm back to punch Davey and he realized that he had to fight back. He hated to fight. But if it kept Les safe-

He threw his own arm forward. Davey's punch sank into the man's soft stomach. He keeled back and let go of Davey's lapel.

"Run! Now!" Davey shouted. He didn't have time for more instruction. The man recovered and threw his next punch. Davey clenched his teeth just in time as the man's fist collided with his jaw. Pain shot through his head and the world started spinning. The next punch came. He ducked and tried to make a shot for the man's chin as he straightened back up. The man stepped back and his hand came short. Another step forward. The mans' fist hit his diaphragm and Davey dropped to a knee, gasping for breath that wouldn't come. He staggered back to his feet as his lungs painfully gasped in another breath of cold air.

Just stay standing. If he was on the ground, he was done for.

The drunk grabbed Davey's shirt again. Davey tried for another punch to the man's stomach. He only succeeded in weakly smacking his shoulders. The man shook him, undeterred, and lifted his arm again. Tears sprung to Davey's eyes as the next punch hit his nose. He couldn't fight what he couldn't see. Blood dripped down his lip. The man cuffed his ears and eyes. He could only shelter his head with his arms but they provided little defense from the attacks.

Finally satisfied that Davey couldn't fight back anymore, the drunk threw him to the ground. Davey curled into a ball, trying to cover his head and protect his stomach from any more attacks. The man spat towards him. "That oughta teachya," he muttered. And finally. Finally. He stalked off.

Davey struggled to pull himself up. His head pounded and his stomach hurt as his breathing started to slow. Where was Les? He squinted through the falling snow but couldn't find any trace of his little brother. He was away from the fight, but alone in New York City. Davey never let him go anywhere without him or Jack, and even though he knew that Les could get back home alright, Davey still wanted to find him. Davey tried to stand, but the dizziness returned as soon as he rose from the ground and he slumped back in defeat. Exhaustion seemed to set deep in his bones and his head was too foggy to go anywhere. Maybe Les had gone to get help. He could stay here. He could rest a little bit, and then go find Les. He'd be ok.

Right?

Davey looked around for his bag. He had to do something about his bloody nose. It lay several feet on the ground away from him, and Davey crawled over to it, then propped himself up against the wall of the building. He pulled out the clean cloth and dabbed at his lip before snatching his hand away. It hurt too much to touch. Hopefully, his nose wasn't broken. Davey gave a long sigh and leaned back to wait.

Les sprinted through the streets, tears streaming down his face. Davey was in trouble. Davey was hurt. He'd left him behind. Davey told him to run. Where to? He shouldn't have listened. He could have stayed and helped. Where was Davey? Would he be able to get back?

Where was he running? Home? He skidded to a stop to catch his bearings. He wasn't anywhere near home. He needed help. Where?

He could go to the lodging house. It wasn't far from here. Jack and Race and Crutchie would know what to do. They would be able to find Davey. They could bring him back to the house to rest and then everything would be ok. Les took a few deep breaths and started running again. It was dark out now, but the streets seemed much less scary now that he had a plan. They're coming, Davey. Help is coming.

The doors to the Lodging house were locked. Of course, they were locked. Now what? Les paced in front of the building. The Newsies slept on the top floor. He just had to find a way to get up there. Up. Up.

The fire escape! Les took the steps two at a time. When he reached the top landing, he knocked wildly on the window. Jack jumped up at the noise and flung open the window, pulling the younger boy through.

"What in the world-" Jack started to ask but Les cut him off.

"Davey's in trouble! Help!"

"What kind of trouble?" Race asked.

"A fight," Les gasped. "Come on!"

"Crutchie, keep everyone else calm and put the little ones to bed. We'll be right back." Jack nodded once and grabbed his hat. Race snatched his jacket off the bedframe and followed Jack and Les down the stairs and out onto the street. They only managed to pull a few more details from Les as they went, and by the time they reached Davey, Jack and Race were expecting him to be lying battered, beaten, and bruised, motionless in the snow.

They found him already up and making his way back towards the familiar streets of Manhattan. The shortness of breath from being punched in the gut had all but subsided after a long rest. The other boys rushed up to him and Les tackled his older brother in a hug. Davey winced and pulled Les off of him.

"You alright there?" Jack asked as he inspected Davey for further injury. "Your lip's bleedin'."

"Fine," Davey smiled. "Sore, but fine. That'll clot in a minute."

"What happened? We got nothin' outta 'im." Race jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Les, who was still clinging to Davey's side.

"He-" Davey paused as he gave his younger brother a glare, "Needs to know how to keep his mouth shut. He tried selling a pape to the wrong person at the wrong time and ended up picking a fight with a drunk guy. I told him to run while I diffused the situation and it… didn't go quite as planned." He slung his bag onto his other shoulder with a shrug and started walking. The others followed after him. None of them wanted to be in the cold any longer than necessary.

"A drunk? You let a drunk give you a bloody nose?" Race asked incredulously.

"I didn't try! And we wouldn't have gotten into it in the first place if it weren't for motormouth over here!" Davey thought it wasn't the best time to bring up lying about the headline. The others all knew his opinion on the matter already and he didn't need another argument tonight.

"That ain't the point," Race said. "Drunks are _slow_, Dave. I should know. I spent years running from one." He shook his head as if this were hopeless. "You coulda gotten out of that fine."

Davey sighed, unwilling to take a lecture on top of the night he'd had. "I'm not a fighter, Race. I'm tired and this is water under the bridge. I'm going home."

"You sure you're ok, Dave?" Jack asked. "Looks like you're gettin' a nasty bruise on your cheek."

Davey's hand drifted up to touch his black eye. "I'll be fine in a day or two. Don't worry about me. Les, let's go." He started to walk off, then turned back round. "Thanks for looking out for me though."

"For sure," Jack said. They waved and parted ways. Davey and Les walked on for a little while in silence.

A dozen different thoughts all raced through Davey's mind as he tried to analyze and make sense of what just happened. He understood the appeal of fabricating the headline, but after all the old lessons and lectures and scriptures that shaped his thinking, he couldn't help but find it disgusting. Jack and Race and the rest didn't really know any better, but Les? He'd grown up the same way as Davey, but he seemed to hold no such qualms. If Ma heard the stuff he said- And then he continued to insult the drunk man while he was still in earshot. What kind of thick-headedness did that take? Davey took a deep breath with his next step and reminded himself that Les was only 9. He was safe now. That was what mattered.

Les knew Davey was mad at him. He never said it, not even when Les had been annoying him all day. He never yelled or acted cross whenever Les messed something up, instead always reassuring Les that it would be ok, just to be careful next time, alright? But there was something in the way he pulled his hat down over his forehead and quickened his pace just a step so that Les struggled to keep up with his long gait that always told him that Davey was mad. Les started to open his mouth to apologize, but he'd barely taken a breath when Davey cut him short.

"Are you alright Les?"

"Um." Les gulped, "Yeah I'm ok."

Another moment of quiet. "I was worried about you."

"Me too… I'm sorry."

"It's ok. You need to be more careful next time, alright?"

Les stared at the ground and kicked a loose cobblestone down the road. Would there be a next time? No more apologies would change what happened tonight. Les kicked the cobblestone again. "Alright."

Ms. Jacobs was pre-occupied with the twins the next morning as her two sons left the house for work, and they escaped any interrogation about the events of the night before. Davey was sore and his cheek was black and blue, but overall none the worse for wear as they make the trek to the circulation floor. Les got their papers and Race came to sit by Davey to practice that day's headline. It had become a habit over the past few months, and they wasted no time on pleasantries."

"Evee- eveline"

"Evelyn."

"Evelyn Adams, you-ung – young, pretty, starves to death in New York truy-ng"

"Trying," Davey corrected, "See. The 'y' makes an 'I' sound when there's the -ing following it."

"I remember now. Evelyn Adams, young, pretty, starves to death in New York trying to wuh-r- no that's not right. Write! Starves to death trying to write love novels."

"That's it!" Davey smiled.

"That's a good one. We sure they ain't talkin' bout Jack here?" Race gave his friend a mischeiveous smirk.

"Yeah – he's got the starving artist act goin!" Albert agreed.

"Though maybe not the young and pretty part," Elmer countered.

Jack smiled winningly and waved at them like a Bowery Beauty. "Hey, my father taught me not to starve. That's why I'm out here with you lugs instead of at the pageants."

"Oh sure, you could be in the pageants. They let anyone in if they pay!" Albert said as he elbowed Race. They started laughing and Jack waved a tired hand at the two goofballs.

"Save it for Weasel."

Davey watched the unfolding events with amusement and rested his head on his hand before pulling it away. He'd forgotten about his bruise. Race noticed the motion, and after Albert had moved on to continue heckling Jack, he fell back to Davey's side.

"Hey, I've been thinkin'-"

"Always a dangerous past-time," Davey joked. Race hesitated for a second. Davey wasn't usually quippy this early. He must be in a good mood.

"You're a danger, Davey," he plowed on. "I'm glad you're alright from your little scrape last night but ya got real lucky. You might not be so lucky next time."

"There's not going to be a next time," Davey asserted. "I've talked to Les-"

"That ain't what I mean. You've learned your lesson 'bout drunks, but what if it's the bulls next time? Or the Delancy's? Or one of the others is in trouble and you throw yourself in front of little Antonio with no regard for yourself?"

Davey stammered for a second. Race poked a finger at his chest.

"Exactly. You gotta learn how to fight."

"Race! I told you I'm not a fighter."

"And I wasn't a reader."

"That's different!"

"You taught me something. Now it's my turn."

Davey dropped Les off at home that night after selling with strict instructions to stay at home and help their Ma get the little ones ready for bed before returning to the lodging house to meet Race. He dragged his feet on his way there. Davey didn't like conflict. He'd been the only one to protest the idea of standing up to Pulitzer when he'd first raised the prices of the papes and was more than happy to let Jack take the lead whenever possible. He stayed out of the scuffles between the Newsies and the Delancey brothers. He was the peacemaker between his siblings.

He wasn't a fighter.

But somehow, he found himself making his way along the streets of Manhattan, hands clenched in fists in his pockets, and Race's words ringing in his ears. _What if the others are in trouble and you throw yourself in front of them?_

He wouldn't fight for himself. But he'd lay down and die before he let anything happen to Les or Antonio or his sisters. So, he raised his fist and knocked on the front door of the Lodging house.

Race flung the door open, a massive smile spreading over his face as he saw Davey. "Let's go out in the alley! We'll have more room to work out there."

"The alley?"

Race nodded and shut the door behind him as they made their way back down the front steps. He stopped and squared his shoulders at Davey.

"Alright. First things first – make a fist."

Davey rolled his eyes and held up his hand. "I know how to make a fist, Race."

"Then why is your thumb sticking out like that?" Race grabbed Davey's hand and forced his thumb to bend down over his curled fingers. "You leave your thumb out like that and it'll catch on some clothes and break."

Davey resisted the urge to snap back and fixed his form. Race continued instructing, "Now get your hands up to cover your head."

Davey obliged, holding his fists near his temples like he'd seen the others do before. Before he could ask what to do next, Race snapped his fist out and tapped him in the gut. Davey recoiled back. "What was that for?!"

"You're not covering your stomach now! You can't leave your elbows up like a chicken and not expect a guy to take that easy strike."

"You didn't have to hit me to make your point," Davey grumbled, adjusting his arms again.

"Stop whining, I just tapped ya," Race said. "Fix your feet."

"What's wrong with my feet?"

Race reached out and shoved Davey's shoulder. He teetered back another step. "If you stand around normal, you don't have any balance. Get into a fighting stance."

"What's _that_ supposed to look like?"

"Do I have to write it out for ya?" Race asked incredulously. How could someone possibly be this clueless in the self-preservation department?

"That might not be a bad idea!" Davey dropped his hands now with a frustrated groan.

Race snapped into the stance and took a light shot at Davey's head. He raised his hands back up just in time. "Now you're learning. Feet apart. One back. Bend your knees."

Davey obeyed and squared off against Race. He was wildly out of his element and felt extremely uncomfortable and distinctly aware of his awkwardness. "Is that good?"

"Fantastic. Now go ahead."

"What?"

"Attack me. Take a swing. Lop my head off!" Race said cheerfully.

Davey stood still, unsure of what Race's trick was supposed to be. "Are you sure that's safe?"

Race sighed in frustration. "I do know what I'm doing, Dave. Can ya trust me on this?"

Davey nodded once, took a breath, and stepped forward with a straight punch. Race stepped to the side and swiped the punch out of the way with an open hand. It flew just past his ear. "See how I blocked that? You slap it just out of the way so that it don't hit ya, then you can counter with something else."

He gave Davey a slight tap to the midsection to demonstrate his point. Davey backed up again, face flushed in equal parts annoyance and embarrassment.

"Race, I swear if you smack me one more time I'm gonna end you."

"That's the spirit!" Race clapped him on his back now with a friendly pat and Davey whirled around, elbows up. He nearly nailed Race in the temple if the other boy hadn't ducked. "Good!"

They continued with different exchanges. Block, punch. Strike, punch, block. Strike, kick, spin, block. Combination after combination. Race kept dancing around Davey, forcing him to react to each new attack but keeping his moves slow enough as not to overwhelm his friend. Davey fell into the pattern. A twitch of the shoulder meant a head punch was coming. Step out, redirect, counter. A long step with a knee up, maybe a kick or a lunge. Move out of the way. Block Low. Race dropped his hands.

Davey's hand shot out and Race staggered back as the punch met his jaw. Davey snatched his hand back and clutched it to his chest. "Sorry! Are you alright?"

Race rubbed his chin and smiled. "I think you're getting it," he panted.

"You're sure you're fine?"

"I'm ok," Race said. He glanced up at the sky. It was getting dark. "Do you want to try again tomorrow night?" He asked. "I won't push you if you don't want to, but I really think I know how to teach you."

Davey nodded, recalling the words he'd said to Race months ago. "If you of all people are willing to stay up late to spend the time on me, then I suppose trying is the least I can do." He spit into his hand and held it out for a shake.

Race did the same. "Deal."

**A/N:**

**Hello! I hope you enjoyed this chapter – I had a lot of fun writing it! It's definitely my longest chapter yet. Just as a heads-up, updates in July are going to be sporadic at best because I'm doing Camp NaNoWriMo to work on my original fiction WIP. I'll try to get some fanfic writing in between the fantasy writing sprints, but I can't make any promises about timing.**

**Thank you again to everyone who's read and reviewed! I try to answer all of the comments and it makes my day to connect with other fans. :)**


	8. Ten Angry Editors

Davey bent over his kitchen table one Sunday afternoon in early December, scribbling away at his story. His father snored quietly from his chair in the corner by the crackling fire. Ma had taken the other kids to visit with a friend, the newspaper didn't publish on Sundays, and he was left with blissful peace and quiet for a whole hour – a rare occurrence anymore.

If only he could enjoy it.

Davey cast down his pen in frustration and leaned back in his chair, idly trying to balance himself on only one leg. Three re-writes later and the scene still didn't work. The dialogue was stilted, the plot was falling apart at the seams, and the pacing was all off, but he didn't know how to fix it. The words wouldn't come, and he's barely finished a paragraph from where he'd last left off. Maybe his dad had the right idea – he could us a nap. But that would be a waste of such precious quiet time, and he ought to be productive. If only.

A loud knock came from the front door, startling Davey. He toppled off the chair, which promptly toppled on top of him. He groaned in pain from the floor, hoping that whoever was at the door would go away, and praying that his dad hadn't woken up from the racket. Another knock, this time more urgent than the first. Davey sighed and pulled himself off the floor, then straightened the chair. Finally, he made his way to the door, bracing for the blast of cold air.

"Katherine?"

His friend was pacing the apartment's landing. Her hair was disheveled frizz rather than the distinguished curls she normally wore, she held a notepad and pen in one hand, and a sheet of typewriter paper in the other. A dozen crisis situations jumped to Davey's mind immediately and he gestured for her to come in and have a seat at the table.

"Davey! Thank God you're home!"

"What's the matter? What are you doing here? Is anything wrong?"

"I need help." She held out the piece of type sheet.

"That doesn't answer my questions," Davey said, taking the paper nonetheless. "This is a story?"

Katherine nodded. "I'm stuck. I need help."

"Don't you have an editor? Like a professional – someone who isn't a random hobby-writer?" The irony of the situation certainly did not escape Davey as he brushed his own work off to the side so he could spread out Katherine's article.

Katherine frowned as if the thought of an editor brought back bad memories. "Yeah, I do. Ten angry screaming ones who all want to tell me how to do my job. I'm supposed to submit this first thing tomorrow morning and it has to be perfect. Even though my father's blacklisting was lifted, I'm still stuck in the socials."

"But you made the front page! Shouldn't they have some trust in you by now? You've proven yourself. That was six months ago!"

"They were just chasing the story. A competitor wiped out by a bunch of kids! They wanted to break the news before we came after the _Sun _too. Now I'm back to the same old song and dance. They never cared about my writing in the first place, anyone could have done a drama piece on the strike and made it to the front page." Katherine said. She picked at a fingernail. Davey couldn't help but notice they were already shredded to the quick.

"You said it yourself at the time, no one else was giving us the time of day. That was all you," Davey insisted.

"It got the job done, didn't it?" She continued, trying to brush off the doubt, "We won. I had a few other stories that turned out to be dead ends, and I think the editors didn't want to give me the page space for fear of my father. But now! Now, I have a shot at breaking out of the socials again with my own merit. For good this time. This is big, so I can't screw it up." She shoved the paper back towards Davey.

Davey shook his head in disbelief of what he was hearing but didn't try to argue. He turned his attention to the article. "_Refuge for Oppression: An Inside View of New York's Infamous Child Prison," _he read. "That's an attention grabber if I ever saw one."

"It'll sell?"

"Does Jack know about this? I've got no insight on the subject."

Katherine nodded somberly. "I visited while it was being shut down. The last group of kids was leaving that day for other more-reputable orphanages, so a lot of the information is stuff I saw for myself. I asked Jack about it after I finished. He didn't read the article but I got him to fact check a couple of things for me. He wasn't eager to talk about it either… but I think it was good that he did."

"So then what do you need me for?"

"If you don't want to read it, that's fine, I don't want to be a bother," Katherine started. She reached her hand out to gather up her things. Davey swatted her hand away.

"Shut up. Your writing is great and I'm reading it," he said, smiling now. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to help with something like this, so far out of his normal literary comfort zone, but he could try.

Katherine shifted nervously in her seat as Davey skimmed the article. She'd heard about the Refuge closing up for good from Jack earlier that week. He only mentioned it briefly in conversation, but the relief was apparent in his face, and she had realized there was so much she didn't know about his past and the other Newsies. He refused to answer any of her questions, simply responding in that same flirtatious, arrogant manner as he usually did, and dared her to go find out for herself. The subsequent conversation only happened after she returned from her excursion, sobered by the experience and looking for more answers.

It was only the latest in a long string of realizations that her upbringing and privileges were rare, each more jarring than the last. She was only 5 when she met Nellie Bly. Her father had only just hired the sensational journalist to write for his newspaper, and Katherine was completely starstruck when he introduced her. When she took on the undercover asylum assignment, Kathrine stayed up for nights with worry and excitement and was among the first to greet her when she got out. She'd also fallen asleep at the table when Bly discussed the events of those long ten days. Bly was an incredible author, an interesting conversationalist, and more than happy to spend time walking around the city with Katherine, who soon became a close friend and apprentice.

She was twelve when she first asked her family's maids and servants why they didn't eat with her and her father, and her nanny had told her that the World just didn't work that way. Katherine remembered thinking that she was only talking about the newspaper at first, and tried to speak to her father about it. They published cartoons and articles talking about how the poor of the city needed fair wages and working conditions. Why didn't they follow their own mantras? Why would they allow for such hypocrisy? When her father hadn't listened, she resolved to only read other papers in a sort of quiet rebellion. At first, she traded with her friends, Darcy and Bill, and snuck the papers into her bedroom to read late after her father had gone to bed. Then she tested her luck by bringing them into her school-room and reading them in front of her tutors. They told her to put them away and focus on her lessons but didn't confiscate the traitorous papers. It wasn't long before she was reading them openly at the kitchen table at breakfast with her father. He didn't notice, or he didn't care.

She was thirteen when her friends found out that their own newspapers weren't any better than her own. But where else would she go to get the news if she couldn't trust any of the major papers? She wrote to Nellie about the issue, and got possibly the best advice of her life… go to the source.

She was fifteen when she decided she wanted to be a journalist. She wasn't sure quite _when _it happened. It wasn't a momentous occasion, but rather the realization of something seemingly inevitable. She only had to figure out how.

She was seventeen when she was finally able to convince her father to put in a word for her with the _Sun. _She was seventeen when she met the famous Jack Kelly. She was seventeen when-

"Can I use this?" Davey's voice jarred Katherine out of her thoughts. He was holding her small notepad and pen.

"Sure," Katherine said, nodding as she tried to speak through a yawn. Davey muttered a thanks and bent back over the paper, scribbling notes as he went. He'd been reading for a while now. Katherine wondered if he was nearly done and stifled another yawn. How long had she been up last night? She didn't remember going to sleep, but she'd awoken early with disturbing dreams of the things that she saw at the Refuge. Snapshots of the children she didn't know that embedded in her memory twisted to include her, Jack, Crutchie, and the others, and she couldn't brush it off as "just a nightmare" because it _happened_. She gasped awake and realized that she was still sitting at her desk, and the candle had burned low as the sun rose.

It was a rude awakening, but a necessary one. She only hoped she could do the same to the public.

Davey tapped the pen on the table as his eyes scanned over the last lines for the third time. "Wow."

_What was that supposed to mean? _Katherine raised her eyebrows and resisted the urge to snatch the notebook off the table and start reading through the notes. Rather, Davey handed it to her.

"Is it good?

"I don't know how you do it," he said. "It's brilliant. Not the subject matter, I mean, the writing."

"I've edited it within an inch of its life," Katherine muttered, and she started skimming his comments. Occasionally there was a small mark to show that a letter needed to be capitalized, a comma added, or a word misspelled, but for the most part, her document was clean. The notepad, on the other hand… She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from crying over the comments.

_Excellent use of repetition_

_Fantastic montage of the setting…. This imagery is so vivid._

"_Concern and anger swirled in my mind but I felt powerless against the system. My only comfort was that things were being fixed, but it didn't erase the offense of the past." – well, THAT'S relatable._

_The choppy sentences tighten the tension here so well._

_I feel like I'm there._

_God, how did we ever let this happen? _

_Oh, look you wrote that. Yes! Call out the authorities!_

_Where's Crutchie? He's safe now, back at the lodging house. And Jack's ok now. I want to go find them and check._

_Were any of the others there?_

_I'm going to go fight Spider. I will break him out of Jail for the sole purpose of soaking him and then throw him back into jail myself to rot._

_Who were these kids?_

_Do they have futures?_

_How can I help?_

_How many people will help after reading this? There's change coming._

David watched Katherine reading over his notes, a half smile on his face. He was proud of her for attacking such a hard issue, especially something so close to home for them, but the reality was troubling. He didn't filter his comments. He wrote his reactions as he read. And now his thoughts clamored with different ideas on what else could possibly be done. He was only a kid, with a family to support, and a brother to keep safe. He didn't have time to campaign for mass institutional-reform. But if there was one thing the entire ordeal of his father's injury and the strike had taught him; it was that there was strength in numbers.

Katherine looked up at Davey, beaming. "It's really that good?"

"Absolutely."

"Would you change anything?"

Davey hesitated for a second. He really had no authority to tell Katherine how to do her job, but she seemed eager to hear his opinion, so he went ahead. "Include a call to action."

Katherine's brow furrowed. "What sort of call? The Refuge is shutting down already."

"That's just one institution. You know Nellie Bly's _Ten Days in a Madhouse?_"

"Of course."

"There are institutions all over New York City for different sorts of 'other' people. Prisons are one, homes for the elderly, some hospitals, sick houses. A good friend of mine has an older sister, Lilly. She's a sweet, quiet, girl and a good listener who's always there for her sisters, but she's suffered seizures all her life. Most other families would have sent her to the institutions because they couldn't care for her. The Beckers are able to keep her at home so that she can get the help and love she deserves. It can be a challenge, but they take it in stride and her sisters, Sadie and Abby, are excellent caretakers," Davey leaned forward as he recalled meeting Sadie's family, smiling at first. His face clouded over as he continued talking.

"Most families can't do that, either they can't afford for someone to be home to care for their loved one, or they don't know how to, and so the majority of people like Lilly are sent to other institutions. Some of them are decent – the nuns help the Newsies and raised Jojo, and there are different women's clubs that do charity work from the suburbs – but the majority are pretty awful. The Refuge isn't the only one."

"Why?" That was the one link missing from her investigations. Why? Why would anyone treat their wards that way? Why would anyone think that was acceptable? It didn't make sense to her, whether because of her class and inexperience or because of the moral issue, she wasn't sure.

Davey shrugged. "A variety of reasons, I suppose. Some private organizations simply don't have the funds. The staff is underpaid and overworked and can't care for everyone properly, or there aren't enough resources to go around. Profit motive? Possibly negligence. Indifference? Apathy?"

"How do we change it? That's not something we can strike against."

Davey hesitated, the vaguest of ideas starting to form in his mind. "We can't strike, we're too detached from the problem. But the public needs to be informed - that's what your article does, and the public needs to be outraged - which is hopefully what your article will accomplish. Then the voice of the public needs to be heard."

"Could we organize another rally?" Katherine suggested, "If Jack and the others spoke about their firsthand experiences-"

"Would Jack be comfortable speaking?" Davey asked. He knew it was a touchy subject.

"No..." Katherine's face fell. "When he talked to me about it, I got the sense that he hadn't told anyone about it before. And for Crutchie, it's such a recent event, I don't know if that's a good idea. Would you speak?"

Davey shook his head, eyes wide.

"Come on! You talk with the Newsies every day. You're more comfortable now than you were then!"

Davey mumbled something about not liking crowds and rested his head in his hands to think. Being put on the spot at the rally was nothing short of terrifying, and to this day, he still wasn't sure how he had actually managed to do it. He'd forgiven Jack long ago and didn't want to put his friend in an equally uncomfortable situation. And truth be told, he didn't really talk to the other Newsies every day. Outside of Jack, Race, Crutchie, and a few others he was friendly with, he mostly sat in the back, watching the antics with varying amounts of humor and concern. They were seldom all in one place anyhow, and creating a rally would be difficult, especially with institutions being so far flung. This was bigger than just the Newsies.

How to garner public support? How to make their voices heard? Slowly, Davey started speaking, scared to spark an idea that was doomed to fail, but too invested at this point to back down.

"What about a petition?"

"A petition?" Katherine repeated. Davey could see her mind working at a rapid-fire pace, trying to figure out logistics and the practically of the scheme.

He started speaking slowly, deliberately. Careful to lay out a plan that wouldn't end in complete disaster. "If you included the call to action, write it saying, 'To call for large state-scale reform of our public institutions, and investigations into possible mistreatments in the private sector, rally behind our cause. Go find a Newsie and sign up with them.' If each of us carried a pen and pad of paper, when people bought the paper, they could also sign. We sell in pairs usually, so one could sell and one could collect the signatures."

As the momentum behind the idea gained steam, Davey's words sped. He pushed back from the table and stood now, "Get one of Jack's illustrations to print with it. And at the end of the day, we can see how many signatures we've collected! If there's enough, you can send them to Governor Roosevelt with the request and a copy of the article. And later, do a follow up article printing the names of the people who signed as a thank you, whether it goes anywhere or not, for calling attention to the issue. It doesn't put any of us or any potential signers in harm's way, and the worst that can happen is that we don't get enough signatures!"

By the time he finished speaking, his words spilled from his mouth in a fast stream and his hands gestured excitedly. It occurred to him that this wasn't the first time he'd been the one to propose a reform movement, and it probably wouldn't be the last. But unlike the strike, here there was no pressure situation to affect his family. He had more control over the means of executing his plan, and he had an eager audience. This was something he could throw his support behind whole-heartedly, and with Katherine's support and brain, he knew there was little that could stop them.

Katherine nodded along excitedly and snatched up the pen and notepad to record his plans. "I'll have to get permission to run a petition, but it's a surefire way to get people to buy the newspaper a few days later if they expect to see a follow up story, or even that afternoon's edition if they go back to find you after they've read the morning paper. My editor will love it."

"We'll have to spread the word to the Newsies who work for the Sun," Davey continued. "Jack will know who to contact, and if we can get him behind the idea, he'll have us petitioning too regardless of which paper the story is in! I can collect pages at the end of the day and bring them to your office if you want."

Katherine grinned at her friend. "That would be great. Davey, you're a genius!"

He shrugged and smiled back. "It's your story. Hopefully, it'll earn a regular beat for our star reporter."

"Hopefully!" Katherine said. I just have to win over my editor first. And in any case, you should be the first signature on our list."

Katherine held the pen out to Davey with a flourish. He took it and happily signed his name on the pad of paper.

"I'll talk to Sadie and see if I can get her family to sign up whenever it goes through."

"If it goes through."

"Don't sell yourself short," Davey said, then winked at Katherine mischievously, fully aware that he stood a full head taller than her. "Hey, even if this doesn't work out with your editor, we still know where to find a printing press."

Katherine shook hands with him, beaming. "Thank you so much!"

"Of course. It's the least I can do for a friend."

"If there's anything I can do for you with this sort of thing, let me know ok? Maybe we can be each other's editors."

Davey laughed and glanced at his own manuscript. "I might have to take you up on that offer. Later though. Go write, and then watch what happens!"

Katherine smiled and turned to the door. "Let's begin!"

**A/N:**

**Hello! Work and Camp NaNoWriMo took over my life for a few weeks there, but I'm back! A HUGE thanks to Percie Jean for letting me use her OCs in this chapter and for beta-reading it for me! Sadie, Lilly, and the rest of the Becker family are characters in her fic "Something Worth Winning" which is amazing.**

**Thank you again to whoever has read and reviewed, and stuck with the story after the brief hiatus. I really appreciate your support. :)**


	9. Chatterbox

It seemed like the whole city was eager for news today. Davey wasn't sure if it was the warm-snap that tricked everyone into thinking there might be an early spring, or if it was the headline itself that drew the crowds out to the streets, but he wasn't about to complain about either. It wasn't often that he was this excited about a headline either, and his voice easily carried across his street corner and lured pedestrians into buying a pape.

"A state-wide fair is traveling to New York City tonight! More information here!" he shouted. "See exotic animals, new inventions, and stunning artwork! Food, Games and fun! Read more here! You won't want to miss this once in a life time experience!"

It was a headline that needed no exaggeration. Everyone had seen the vendors begin setting up around the city, and though the story had been running on and off for weeks now in anticipation of the event, people didn't seem to tire of the excitement. Jack had been absolutely right when he convinced Davey to take fifty papes that morning, assuring him that they'd be sold in no time, and he'd already returned to the distribution floor for more. He was almost through the second batch now, and now that Les had finished his own, he was helping too. At this rate, they'd finish in time to go to the exposition themselves.

"That's the last one!" Les shouted over the hum of the crowd. Davey smiled at him and slung his empty bag over his back as he followed his brother towards Newsie's square. When they arrived, there were already a dozen of the others excitedly babbling about their plans for the Expo that evening. Les dumped his change into Davey's pockets and ran off to join his friends. Davey quietly made his way to sit next to Crutchie and JoJo, content to watch Les enjoying himself and listen to the chaos from the sideline as he counted through that day's profits.

Les and Henry were excitedly telling Antonio about their favorite fair foods, eager to introduce the new boy to a wide array of American treats.

Finch and Sniper were already schemeing how to win prizes at the different game booths. Especially any that required hitting targets. None would be safe from their aim and ambitions.

Davey finished counting the coins up. He'd taken 80 papes total – a new record for him, and Les had sold all 50 of his own. With a couple "keep the change" donors, they'd made a whole dollar and forty-five cents. He emptied the coins back into his lap to count again and started setting aside the money they'd need for the next day's papes and the family's expenses for the day, plus a little extra for savings. All the while, he listened.

Romeo, predictably enough, was already thinking about the girls he might meet.

Mush and Elmer were scanning the pape for the wildest sights to see. Race's eager chatter and Albert's enthusiastic yelling only riled the boys up even more. Jack tried to shout over the boys to calm them down, largely unsuccessfully as his own infectious excitement derailed any hope for an organized meeting. He managed to set down a meeting place and time for the end of the night before the boys started breaking off in pairs to go explore.

Crutchie laughed at the gaggle of younger boys and leaned over to Davey as he finished counting up the day's sales for the second time. "What are you planning for at the fair?"

Davey looked up and smiled at his friend. "My family's coming," he explained. "And I was hoping we'd make enough to give the others a little extra spending money. It'd be a nice treat, especially with the long shifts that mom and the girls have been working at the factory."

"I thought you guys were the only ones working and your ma watched the little'uns."

Davey shook his head. He didn't want to bother the others with his family's stress on what should be a happy night, so he kept his mouth shut. They were making do. That was what mattered.

"Why don't you guys work at the factory too?" JoJo asked.

"Can you imagine Les sitting still and sewing all day?"

JoJo laughed and shook his head. Crutchie sighed. "It's nice of you all to give your extra change to your siblings."

Davey smiled, pleased with himself. "They'll be so excited." His satisfied grin slipped from his face as he watched the ragtag bunch playing in the square. "Do you have enough to spend some tonight? Will the boys be able to have some fun too? I might have enough to split up amongst anyone who needs it?"

Crutchie shook his head. Though he doubted some of the younger kids had the prudence or ability to save up for such an event, there were too many of them for Davey to split the change. Besides, he helped enough when he could, offering to share food and inviting them over for dinner, fixing the leaky window in the lodging house, doing first aid when needed. They would manage when it came to leisure money. "Naw, we'll be fine. You keep that for your family. You didn't answer my question though."

"What?"

"You're so worried about making sure everyone else has a good time, and you worked so hard today to have enough spending money for your little brothers and sisters, but did you stop to think at all about what you're gonna do?"

Davey rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "I'm probably going to wind up babysitting. So, I didn't get my hopes up."

JoJo reached over and smacked Davey lightly with his cap. "Oh come on. I'm sure ya have _somethin _you want to do. Even you can't possibly want a quiet night at home with the Fair in town!"

"What if your mom and dad end up watching the kiddos? Or I can hang out with Les so you can go enjoy yourself too," Crutchie interjected. "I wouldn't mind. I'm planning to get some dinner and sit out in the park to hear the musicians and I can keep an eye on him while he plays."

"You sure?"

"Positive! But only if you think of something interesting to do," Crutchie teased.

Davey smiled a thanks, "I really want to look at the Science and Technology Expo. A bunch of different prototype inventions will be on show! Brand new, state of the art stuff that's going to shape the new century!"

"A science fair?" Crutchie asked skeptically. That sounded like the least interesting thing he could think of, but if that's what Davey cared about, then he could at least be excited for his friend. He knew that Davey missed school, and was probably eager to catch up on all that he'd missed. "I'm sure you'll enjoy that!"

"I know it seems kind of boring to a lot of people but-" Davey started to say.

"I'll go with ya!" JoJo said.

"Wait, really?"

"Sure! It's not fair that everyone else is doing stuff together, and you'll end up walking around that science thing all by yourself otherwise."

Davey shrugged and smiled, "Thank you, both of you."

Crutchie stood and gave Davey a smug look as he high-fived JoJo. "We was gonna force you to have fun tonight whether you wanted to or not. It's our pleasure."

Davey only rolled his eyes and grinned as they made their way out of Newsie's square after the others. They had an exciting night ahead of them.

What had he been thinking?

JoJo resisted the urge to groan as he and Davey turned down another row of exhibits. It had been interesting at first, sure. The entire pavilion was lit up with electric lightbulbs and the novelty had captured his attention for a few minutes, but the impact had long since worn off. Now he was reluctantly following Davey along the different rows, nodding and smiling as the older boy talked.

"…communication is the same, but without the wires typically associated with the telegraph, think of the new possibilities! Wires can be damaged, cut…"

What were they even looking at? The apparatus was too hopelessly complicated for JoJo to understand.

"It's beautiful in it's simplicity, really!" Davey said enthusiastically.

Never mind.

Maybe if he payed attention he'd be able to follow what was going on, but he was too surprised by the sudden flood of words to really focus. JoJo wracked his mind, trying to come up with the last time he'd heard Davey say so many words in a row. Maybe when he had first proposed the idea of a strike, or at the rally, but that was different. Davey talked with Crutchie and Jack a lot, but never as much as he was blathering on now. Where had he even learned all this stuff?

"Just think of the possibilities, Jojo!"

The mention of his name called the younger boy out of his thoughts. Davey looked at him expectantly. "Oh sure. Lots of em," he answered, attempting to feign some sort of interest.

Davey's face fell slightly at JoJo's dismissive comment. He should have known that he would just bore the kid. He wasn't much older than Les really, and it made sense that he wouldn't be interested in this sort of thing. Davey considered plowing on as if he hadn't noticed, but reconsidered.

"You're pretty bored, aren't you?"

"What? Pssssh, naw. This is fascinating stuff! All the…" Jojo's voice trailed off as he searched for the proper terms. "Whirligigs and thingamabobs."

"It's ok, JoJo. You don't have to follow me around if you don't want to," Davey said. Surely there were a dozen things the younger, more adventurous newsie would rather be doing than following him around the expo, and he didn't want to ruin JoJo's evening. He'd learned long ago that few people had the time or wanted to listen to him ramble, and while he was thankful that Jack was willing to listen to his random facts every once in a while, he knew that not many people shared his enthusiasm for studying the natural world.

"I do want to check it out," JoJo insisted. "You know lots more than I do, and I was just getting confused. You can teach me bout it! Just like ya taught Race ta read!"

Davey gave a wry smile. "Ok then – time for a pop quiz."

"A whAT?"

"I just explained this _thingamabob_ to you, so you should know this. What differentiates the radio from a telegraph?"

"Uuuuh." JoJo squinted at the thingamabob – no, radio – as if he were trying to solve a complex math problem. What in the world did 'differ-something-something' mean? What had Davey just explained? JoJo wracked his brain.

"Wires! That's it! This thingamabob don't got wires on it! Which means it works when the other one don't!" he yelled triumphantly. A few people turned to look at the small, dirt covered kid yelling in the middle of the isle as Davey gave JoJo a proud, albeit a surprised look.

"You didn't expect me to remember that," JoJo laughed. "I ain't as dumb as ya think."

"I never called you dumb," Davey stammered. He hadn't tried to seem demeaning with his quiz, only to prove a point, but now it seemed like he'd offended his younger friend. "I just wanted to know-"

"If I was payin' attention," JoJo finished. "I'm messing with ya."

Davey tried to hide his sigh of relief and grumbled something about education before turning back to the exhibit. "What were you planning on doing tonight?"

"Huh? I'm here, ain't I?"

"Yeah, but I know this isn't what you had hoped to be doing tonight. I'm sorry if I'm slowing you down."

JoJo shook his head. "I was going to get some food and listen to the musicians with Crutchie later but I didn't have any other plans. And I am genuinely interested in this."

"Really?"

"For Sure. And I promise I'll pay more attention if you help me get a prize at one of the booths," JoJo said, winking. Davey laughed.

"For Sure."

Jack tried to count heads as Newsies trickled into the park and Crutchie flagged them down to come sit in a group. Les, Henry, and Antonito tagged at his heels in an attempt to keep up with his long strides – over tired from the excitement and stuffed with food. They collapsed on a blanket next to Crutchie, and it wasn't long before Antonio was sleeping with his head in the older Newsie's lap. The same couldn't be said for the other boys, who were even more energetic and rambunctious for the day's excitement. Sniper had somehow gotten Mush's fingers stuck in a woven paper tube trap, and he and Finch were laughing uproariously as he ran about frantically trying to get the others to help get it off. Elmer and Race were making off with the distracted kids prizes, stashing them around the area to make a chaotic hide-and-go-seek game. Les rushed over to where his family was sitting nearby.

There were Buttons and Smalls. Davey came over with JoJo, who proudly showed off a new automaton toy that whirred with a wind-up gear. Kid-Blink and another group were coming along now. Nearly everyone was accounted for, and he saw a few stragglers playing in the distance. Satisfied, he sank to the blanket to sit next to Crutchie.

"Have fun?" Crutchie asked Davey as he walked past on his way to meet his family. He nodded enthusiastically and parted with another quick word of thanks.

Henry leaned over to Jack and pulled his sleeve to get his attention. "What's up, kiddo?"

"What's the matter with Davey?"

"Whadda you mean what's the matter with him?"

"He doesn't seem to want to sit with us. And he's always so quiet."

JoJo whirled around to look at Henry. "What do you mean he's so quiet? He literally? Doesn't shut up?"

Jack nodded in affirmation. "I don't call him 'The Walking Mouth' for nothin."

Henry looked in bewilderment over to where the Jacob's family was sitting. Davey was quietly sitting next to Sarah, listening to her talk about what she'd done that night and watching Marie and Rebecca show off their new toys. He smiled as he realized that his extra work had gone towards making a memorable night for his younger siblings, but said nothing.

"So he's not in a bad mood or nothin'?" Henry asked.

"He's in a _great_ mood," Jojo insisted. "I don't think I've ever seen him that excited about somethin' before."

"Ask him about snakes some time," Jack said. Henry looked at JoJo for some explanation, but only received a shrug in answer.

"I'd never have expected Davey of all people to be a chatterbox," Henry mused. "He seems the bookish type."

"You're not wrong," Race cut in. "He's just a loudmouthed bookworm."

"Maybe he only talks about certain things? Like snakes?" Henry asked.

"And science," Added JoJo.

"And books," said Race.

"And snakes."

"Really, Jack? Snakes?" Race teased. "Davey does not seem like the type to try to pick up a snake. Unlike _someone_ I could mention," He gave a side-eye to Albert, who whistled away to avoid prank incrimination.

"I'm telling ya! Ask him sometime," Jack insisted.

"Some time, maybe," Henry said. He yawned and leaned against the older newsie. Jack put his arm around him so the boy could get comfortable. "But not tonight."

And with that, they quieted to sit back to listen to the music as the upbeat ragtime piano danced through the sweet springtime air.

**A/N:**

**Hello! I hope you enjoyed this sillier chapter after the last few serious ones. I have no historical basis for the setup of a springtime fair with a science expo attached, but the **_**Exposition Universelle**_**, or better known as the **_**World's Fair**_** took place in April 1900 in Paris, so I don't think it's too far of a stretch to imagine other cities around the world might have tried to mimic it. State Fair type celebrations and seasonal festivals are also not entirely uncommon, so I claim creative license in the potential historical accuracy and realism of the setup.**

**Thank you again to everyone who's read and reviewed! I try to answer all of the comments and it makes my day to connect with other fans. :)**


	10. Just a Worrywart pt 1

_March 3__rd__, 1900_

"Fifty papes, please. And thirty for Les."

Jack's head spun around at the sound of Davey's voice. He'd been preoccupied with giving directions to one of the younger newsies who needed a new selling spot and hadn't even seen the two Jacob's boys walk in. He glanced up at the board to re-read the headline – something boring about Former President Cleveland - then did a double-take as he turned back to his friend, trying vainly to count and fit all fifty papes into his bag without holding up the line.

" 'Morning, Jack," Les shouted as he ran up to him. "Can I sell with you today?"

"Sure thing, squirt. Thirty today, huh? Ya think you can pull it off with that snoozer?" Jack gave them a teasing grin and ruffled Les's hair.

"Wanna make it a bet?" Les challenged. He jutted his chin out as if to prove that he was more than capable of such a feat.

"No. No betting," Davey cut in. He squinted hard at Race and pointed an accusatorial finger in his direction. "You're a bad influence, and you know it."

"Ya love me!" Race shouted back from across the floor. "That's why you keep comin' back round!"

Davey shook his head, unable to hide a grin, but pulled Les to his side regardless.

"And you? Fifty! Did you finally learn how to put your storytelling to good use?" Jack said. "Did all that fiction teach you how to improve the truth a little?"

"Haha, very funny."

"Jack! Ya better watch out, or he's gonna take over your spot, specially if he keeps selling like that," Les teased right back. Davey only rolled his eyes and ushered his younger brother out of the circulation floor, bracing himself for a long day ahead.

Jack had to pause when he reached the circulation grounds at the end of the day. Davey and Les had beaten him there and were already standing in line to return their leftover papes. How many did they have there? It wasn't a large stack.

"Twelve," Davey announced as he approached the counter. Oscar Delancey begrudgingly counted out six cents and passed them back to Davey. Twelve? Jack recounted the stack in his own hand to sell back to Wiesel. He had ten.

He could have sworn Les winked at him as they left the floor.

_March 4__th__, 1900_

"You decide to join the land of the living this fine morning? It ain't even eight yet."

"I'mma wake," Davey mumbled. "And it's late afternoon, so you can stop teasing me about not being a morning person." He gave his unsold papes – fourteen of the fifty today – to Les to return and slid a book of fairy tales onto the table with a yawn. Race had recently graduated from the rhyming patterns that Davey wrote to reading the short children's stories.

"You look half dead."

"I didn't sleep well last night, I'm fine."

Race rolled his eyes. "Hey, once we're done with this, you wanna play cards with Albert and Elmer and me?"

"Yeah!" Les shouted, but Davey was already shaking his head.

"We need to be getting home early tonight. Sorry, Race."

"Aww, why be such a killjoy?"

"I need a nap," Davey deadpanned. "I'll pass out over the cards, and then you'll win and we can't have that, now can we?"

"You just now I would have won anyhow."

"Then why tempt fate?" Davey shrugged. "See how well that worked out for (insert fairy tale here)? Besides, mom needs our help with something."

"Sure thing, sleeping beauty," Race teased.

_March 5__th__, 1900_

Crutchie pulled Davey to the side as he started to walk out of the circulation floor and they began walking together towards his selling spot. This had become common practice most mornings, but Davey had been in such a rush the past few days to start selling that he'd missed their walk. Now, Crutchie smiled in the familiar presence restored and quiet camaraderie. Eventually, he decided to break the silence, if only to help his friend wake up.

"Sleep better last night?"

Davey shook his head.

"How's your family doing? Les seemed quieter than usual today."

"We're mostly alright. Just a bit busier than usual."

"Mostly alright?" Crutchie asked skeptically. He gave Davey a second look over and realized that his clothes were horribly wrinkled as if he had gone to bed in them the day before. It was uncharacteristic to say the least, but he'd been so tired lately.

"Sarah is sick."

Warning bells and worse case scenarios started to go off in Crutchie's head. Illness in the lodging house could mean weeks, if not months, of misery, and what was the Jacob's small apartment if not a lodging house for the family of ten?

"Will she be alright?" His face clouded over with worry, and Davey rushed to reassure his friend.

"She'll be ok. She was babysitting for another family in our tenement, and the flu is still going around from the winter. She just caught it from the kids, but she's been sick before and made it out ok. She'll be fine."

"And the rest of em are ok too? What about the babies?"

"We've got her isolated to a sickbed, and we're keeping the little ones away from her. It's not the ideal setup, but it's worked so far. I'm more or less immune since we had the same bug a few years back, so I've been helping take care of her."

"And that's why you haven't slept well?"

"She's coughing a lot, which keeps me up, but we'll both be fine in a few days."

"It's been three now if I guess correctly?"

Davey nodded and slung his heavy bag over the other shoulder. "She works two shifts at the factory with mom, but she's been too tired to go in. We're trying to make up for her salary."

"That's a lot of work for the two of you."

He shrugged. "Yeah, but it's the least we can do. And it should only be a week or so."

"Well, you got some savings, don't ya?"

Davey scratched the back of his head as he tried to recall his careful calculations. "About eight dollars, yes. It'll be enough to cover rent for the week if we need it, but I'd rather not go there if I can just work harder and forgo saving to make the same amount of money. I'm saving for school, but if push comes to shove, I can use it for this sort of crisis."

"Is there anything we can do to help? I'm sure-"

Davey was already shaking his head. "No, Jack's right. You're not here on playtime, any more than we are. Sorry to bother you with all this, I'm just being a worrywart. Da tells me to focus on fixing the problem, instead of dwelling on it. If I've heard that once, I've heard it a million times, and that's all I'm doing. It was the same when he broke his leg and we came here in the first place. It was the same when we started the strike. It's the same now."

"You sure? You're always trying to feed us – let us repay the favor!"

"No. Really, Crutchie. We'll be fine." He feigned a smile. "And hey, once she gets better, maybe I can keep this up. Like Les said, maybe I'll be able to rival the famous Jack Kelly!"

"You wish," Crutchie joked, and punched him gently in the shoulder with his free hand. "Jack's got a few years on you."

"Just a few," Davey laughed. He wheeled on his heel to head to his selling spot. "But I'm making up for lost time."

**A/N:**

**I'm sorry about such a short installment after such a long wait. To make up for it, this is going to be the first in a 3-part installment, with updates every other day until it's done. I hope you like this so far. I had fun messing around with the new date format to show the relative passage of time instead of just writing "The next day" a bunch of times.**

**On another note… I won Camp NaNo, adding another ~30,000 words onto my original fiction WIP! Thank you again to all of my readers, and everyone who's been so patient and supportive of me, even with the sporadic updates this past month!**

**See you on Thursday!**


	11. Just a Worrywart pt 2

_March 7__th__, 1900_

"Crutchie!" The voice of the younger newsie came from across the lodging house, startling Crutchie out of his sleep. What time was it? How long had he been out?

Crutchie groaned and sat up from his bunk. "What's wrong, Buttons?" He rubbed his eyes and peered around the lodging house. It must be near bedtime. The boy's head peeked out from under a pile of blankets sitting on a bed a few bunks away.

"Are you coming over to talk tonight?"

He shook his head. "Sorry kiddo, I'm staying put. If you wanna come over here, you can, but otherwise Jack will be over instead."

Most nights, Crutchie would make rounds around the small room to chat with each of the younger boys, check if they were alright, and ask about their days. Today though, he'd made straight for his bed and collapsed into relief and sleep as soon as he was finished selling.

Buttons crawled out of his covers and made his way over to sit next to Crutchie, being careful not to knock over his crutch leaning against the bed.

"How was selling today? See anything cool?"

"Pretty ok. The tailor has a really sharp looking suit on display today. It's got a watch pocket! Maybe I'd be able to learn how to sew like that someday?"

"Sure, if you work hard. Maybe he'd take you on as an apprentice when you're a little older."

"I'd like to try being a clockmaker!" Jojo piped in from his perch on the top bunk. His legs dangled over the edge of the bed as he played with his wind-up toy. The Sisters have an old grandfather clock that I used to watch for ages as a kid."

"You still are a kid," Buttons said. Jojo ignored him and continued talking.

"They said it was a donation from a rich member of the congregation, so they didn't let me take it apart, but I always wanted to try."

Buttons shook his head and leaned over to Crutchie, who sat with his legs pulled up to his chest so he could rub the soreness out, at least temporarily. "Is it gonna rain?"

"Downpour, probably in a few hours, and maybe some sleet with how cold it is. We'll see if it lasts until tomorrow but it won't be fun to walk in, that's for sure." He laid back in bed and pulled a threadbare blanket over his legs. "At least none of us are sick. I hope Sarah's doing better. This weather can't be helping her cold."

Jack came around the corner, having finished his rounds of the Lodging house to ensure everyone was quiet and in their own beds. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at Buttons. "Bed. Now." The younger Newsie said a quick goodnight and made his way back to his own bunk. "What's all this about Sarah? Jacobs?"

"Davey told me she was sick a couple days ago," Crutchie explained. "That's why he's been taking fifty papes a day, to make up for her being outta work."

Jack frowned. "Why didn't he just tell me when I asked?

"Are they ok?" JoJo added.

Crutchie shrugged. "He says they're all fine, just a bit sleep deprived."

"Why did you tell me right away? We could help."

"He told me he didn't want our help. And I figured he wouldn't want me telling you either because you're gonna try an do something about it, ain't ya?" Crutchie grinned. He knew Jack too well.

"Too late for that. He won't take our money if we forced it at him. He'd return it the next day."

"Could we do something else?" Crutchie asked.

"Oh, so you want in on it?!"

"Of course!"

"Do you think they've got enough to eat, with the money going towards rent?" Henry put in, eavesdropping on the conversation from across the isle. "We could make them soup or something warm, so they can rest instead of making dinner. That's what our mom always does when someone we know has a kid."

"Where are we going to get a kitchen to make soup?" Jack asked. "And as far as I know, none of you buggers can actually cook."

"Could we ask Jacobi?" Crutchie offered. "Maybe he'd let us buy a pot of soup?"

_August 8__th__, 1900, late afternoon_

"Absolutly not!" Jacobi said. He waved his hands to move the boys out of his restaurant's seating area. "I look out for you boys, but not when you are covered in mud and aiming to make a mess of my kitchen. Besides, the dinner crowd is nearly here. Find someplace to stay dry and warm, but I'm afraid it can't be here. At least not right now."

The newsies trudged out of the restaurant and huddled under the overhang of the building, awaiting Jack's instructions on their next move. Rain rolled off the roof and dripped on the unfortunate few who found themselves just under the ledge. They only tried to elbow and crowd their way back under the awning.

"I suppose we ought to be heading back to the Lodging house? There ain't no-one who's goin to be out and ready to buy in this deluge," Race said, proudly showing off a new word he'd learnt from Davey earlier that day. The Jacobs boys had already returned home earlier that day, and the other boys hoped to scrounge up the soup while they weren't around.

"We can't just give up like that!" Jack countered.

"Well where else are we supposed to find a kitchen?" Crutchie asked. He wanted to help the Jacobs as much as Jack did, but it was windy and cold and the last thing he wanted to do was slip in the muddy streets as they traipsed all over New York in an attempt to find someone who'd give them soup. And then there was the matter of transporting it back to the Jacob's apartment. And the stairs. "I second Race's vote. Unless there's somewhere closer we could stay to wait out the rain."

"Medda's theater?" Jack suggested.

"She don't got a kitchen though," Henry countered, "and her apartment's tiny."

JoJo thought for a minute. "What about the Sisters? They've got a big kitchen in the convent so they can feed everyone, and I'm sure they won't mind a bit if we shelter down in the church for a little while."

"You sure they won't mind us all barging in, Jojo?" Crutchie asked. "Even if they don't let us use the kitchen, that's a bit closer walk than the lodging house.

"Just so long as you're not too irreverent."

Elmer groaned. "Sister Francesca will never let me hear the end of this."

An older woman opened the back door of the rectory to the sopping wet Newsies. Her round face creased with laughter lines as she saw her favorite student and his friends and she ushered them into the convent quickly. Crutchie looked over the unfamiliar sister – she wasn't one of the ones who normally fed them in the mornings. She had warm brown skin and large brown eyes, and wore the full habit of the order. Her worn hands moved deftly as she fetched towels for the boys and spoke with JoJo in an almost musical rapid-fire Spanish. Crutchie knew enough of the language to converse with his friend, but the conversation was lost on him. Finally, she paused to look over the group of Newsies.

"Elmer! I see you've come back to church!" She teased in heavily accented English. Elmer shrugged and smiled.

"It's raining, sister," he offered sheepishly.

Sister Francesca laughed loudly and gave Crutchie a warm towel. It was threadbare, but warm and clean. He decided he liked her. She turned and started walking briskly down a hallway, beckoning the boys to follow her.

"She says we can use the kitchen so long as we help make dinner for tonight!" Jojo announced. "They have the ingredients and everything to make the soup and bread and stuff, so we'll just make big batches of everything and take what we need with us."

Jack smiled and tipped his hat at Sister Francesca. "Thank you, ma'am. It's for a friend of ours – Davey Jacob's sister."

"I know Sarah. She's a good girl," she said, opening the door to the kitchen. "Use whatever you need. The other nuns and I will be at Liturgy of the Hours so you'll have the area to yourselves for a while, but I'll check in soon." Sister smiled and turned to leave.

"Gracias!" Jojo called after her. He moved to an icebox that was built into the outside wall of the convent and started pulling out carrots, celery, onions, potatoes, and other foods. He handed them to the other boys who put them all on the table that stood in the middle of the room.

"Alright, you and Henry are the only ones of us who knows how to cook, so you'll have to give us jobs to do," Jack instructed.

JoJo looked at Henry for help and he moved to join JoJo at the table. "Well, we'll have to cut up the vegetables and boil them in some water or chicken stock, if we have any. Someone – Crutchie – could you start a fire? If we're making bread, someone will have to get out the flour, water, yeast, and salt and start kneading some dough. We could probably start on that first, because it'll have to rise. I don't know where everything is though."

"I do! They rotate kitchen duty, and I helped sometimes. I can get everything out if you start."

Jack nodded his assent of the plan and started assigning the newsies to the different jobs. It wasn't long before the pot of soup was happily boiling over a crackling fire as the boys took turns crowding around the hearth to keep warm. Crutchie stirred the pot from time to time to make sure the food wouldn't burn to the bottom, and nearly splashed himself with the hot liquid when a shout of surprised startled him from his work. He dropped the ladle onto the hearth and whipped around to see what was the matter.

Jojo stood on top of a stool, stifling a laugh at Henry who sat on the ground next to him. Both boys were completely covered in flour. The kitchen froze for a split second. Jack looked at the boys expectantly.

"I didn't do it," Henry and Jojo spoke at once, pointing fingers at the other. The other older newsies all broke out laughing. They learned long ago that excuse wasn't going to work on Jack.

"I don't care who did it, but you're both going to clean it up," he answered. "See how much you can salvage. We don't want to waste the sister's food."

"Sorry," both boys answered. Crutchie scrambled to his feet to retrieve the broom and handed it to Jojo so they could get started before making his way across the kitchen to where Race and Albert were working on cookies. Race batted Albert's hand away from the bowl of batter with a scowl.

"Keep your grubby fingers out of it," he growled. Albert pouted and made another dodge for the bowl.

Crutchie leaned over to Buttons, who was setting the table. "Can I borrow a spoon?"

"Sure. What for?" He handed the requested utensil to Crutchie. He put a finger up to his lips and gave Buttons a conspiratory grin. Race's back turned to Crutchie as he snatched the bowl away from Albert and held it behind him.

"And stay out!"

Crutchie darted forward and scooped up a spoonful of the cookie dough. He gave a piece to Buttons with a wink. "Wow! Race! This is really good!"

Race whipped around. "Crutchie! Not you too! Get back here!"

"Catch me if you can!" Crutchie teased. He put the spoon in his mouth and took off across the kitchen. Race dropped the bowl to chase him in laps around the table, nearly knocking into Henry and spilling the flour in his dust pan back out onto the floor.

"Race! Knock that off!" Jack yelled. He fought to keep order and a straight face.

"They started it!" Race protested.

"I'm gonna end it. Crutchie, give me the spoon back." Jack instructed. Crutchie did as he was told.

"I don know if ya wan it," he mumbled through a mouthful of dough. "it's not very good."

"It needs cooked, silly," Race said. He held out another spoon – this one full of a brown powdery substance. "You can have this though. It's even better."

Crutchie excitedly took the spoon from Race and downed its contents in one gulp before going into a fit of coughing. Race laughed as Crutchie grabbed a glass of water to chase down the bitter taste.

"What WAS that?"

"Bakers chocolate," Albert answered.

"That was mean."

"He got me with the same trick." Race grinned. "So course I had to try it on you. Jack didn't think you'd actually take the bait though."

"You were in on this?!" Crutchie gave Jack a look of mock betrayal and stomped back to the fire to pretend to sulk. Jack lost his composure and gave him a smug grin.

"It'll make you think twice before trying to steal the food again. Everyone gets it at some point or another."

Crutchie stuck his tongue out at them. "I'm not dissuaded that easy. But I hope you're not trying that on Davey or Sarah."

"We won't get a rise out of Davey. You're more fun," Race corrected. Crutchie grumbled and turned to stir the pot of soup again.

"Speaking of Davey," Jack interrupted, "It's almost dark. If the bread's almost done, we need to get going."

"They'll be so excited to see what we made!" Henry declared excitedly. "I can't wait!"

**A/N:**

**I hope you like the second installment of this story! Thank you to everyone who reads and reviews – I love hearing what you think of each chapter and try my best to respond to every comment and PM. Your encouragement is the reason I keep writing this story, and I can't thank you enough. :) See you on Saturday!**


	12. Just a Worrywart pt 3

Jack pulled Crutchie to the side as they made the trek towards the Jacob's apartment. Despite the fact that all 20 something newsies weren't needed to help transport the gifts; the others were not to be dissuaded from coming along to see their reaction.

"What's the matter?"

"I think some of us should head back to the lodging house now before it starts raining again."

"Why?" Race cut in. He'd noticed Jack's conversation with Crutchie and wheeled back around to eavesdrop. "We won't melt."

"Well that, but I also don't think it's a good idea for all of us to crowd into the apartment with Sarah being sick. Yous might catch whatever she's got, and then it'll be miserable for weeks. It's better if only a few of us go."

"What are you planning to tell them? It was a group effort," Crutchie pointed out.

Jack shrugged. "I was planning not to say anything, really."

"How's that?" Race asked. "Just drop the food on the doorstep and run? "

"Exactly!"

"Where's the fun in that?"

"You said it yourself – there's no getting a rise out of Davey. What I'm worried about is if he refuses."

"He wouldn't?" Race asked, incredulous. "Who passes up free food?"

Crutchie shrugged. "He acted like all was fine, and he refused my offers of if there was anything we could to do help then. He wouldn't want our pity."

"Shouldn't speak for his family though," Jack said. "We should leave the food by the front door, knock, and head off. Which is why we only need a few people. Everyone else will be too noticeable."

Crutchie nodded. "I can round up the others and take them back to start getting them ready for bed."

"I should go with you."

"To help keep order?"

"You doubt me?!" Crutchie gave Jack an incredulous look before smiling. "I'd appreciate the help."

Jack stopped in the street. A few of the boys walked on ahead but soon realized their leader had stopped walking and skidded to a halt. He surveyed the crowd to figure out who was carrying food. "Specs! Race! Sniper! You three gather all the things and take them to the Jacobs place. Leave them at the door, knock, and find a hiding place so he doesn't see you. Come back once he takes the food inside the house. The rest of ya are heading home."

A chorus of, "Awww, come on Jack!" groans came from the Newsies. Crutchie rallied them forward, promising a song before bed, as Jack persuaded the stragglers to join them.

Crutchie turned to grin at Race before he left. "Hey, make sure they don't eat the cookies."

When Davey and Les got home, a pile of towels already stood waiting for them by the door to the apartment. Sarah's voice came from her cot around the corner.

"Don't you guys dare track mud though this house. I just swept the floor and I'm not doing it again."

Davey smiled at his sister's orders and kicked off his shoes. Les snapped a towel at him and hastily finished drying off so he could greet the twins. They were almost two now and starting to move from toddling to running around the house. Jonah crashed into Davey's leg – his version of a hug – and Isaiah pulled at his shirt.

"Dav-uh! UP!"

Davey smiled and picked up his little brother. Isaiah snatched his cap off his head with a scream of excitement and pulled it down over his own eyes. Les laughed and Davey put the littler of his little brothers back down on the ground.

"Go play. I'm going to check on Sarah and I don't need them getting sick," he instructed. Les was more than happy to oblige and they quickly escaped to hide under the kitchen table, playing covered wagon with the tablecloth. Davey shook his head and rounded the corner into their apartment, where Sarah was sitting up in her sick-bed, sewing.

"I don't need checked on, Davey." She protested as he put his hand over her forehead to check her temperature.

"You should be resting – not sweeping and sewing. You still have a fever."

"No, if I'm sick I ought to be catching up on housework. It's most efficient that way. I'm just a little chilled."

"Well, let me know if 'maximum efficiency' wants a nap or a cup of tea or something," Davey said. He turned to his father who was taking a well-deserved rest in a nearby chair after having chased the twins around all day. "Do you want tea?"

"Yes please."

"Davey?"

"Yes, Sarah?" Davey already pulled down the third mug from the shelf.

"May I have some too?"

"Of course."

"I'll make it!" Les offered. Davey pulled him back from the stove before his hands could even reach the knob.

"I think not. You can set the table for dinner but let me do the knives."

Les harrumphed and set to his task as Davey put the kettle of water on the stove. He looked in their cabinets for something that could be made into a fast dinner, but they'd not been replenished since that morning. Ma said she would pick up something on her way home from the factory, but with it being so rainy, maybe he should just go instead. If they waited until it was actually dinnertime, then it'd be dark and cold as well as wet and miserable.

The kettle started to whistle and Davey debated whether or not he should bother going out again as he filled three mugs of tea. It was so warm and relatively quiet, and he loathed going out and deal with the rain and people again, but it looked like that was the only choice. He handed the cups to his father and Sarah, setting his own on the table for the time being.

Sarah had scarcely taken hers when she went into a fit of coughing. Davey lunged over and snatched the cup out of her hands before it could spill. She coughed a second longer, then shivered.

"I'm ok." Her voice was a hoarse whisper. Davey shook his head and handed her back the tea.

"No, you're not." He fetched another blanket from his bed and wrapped it around her. "I'm going out to get dinner for tonight. Stay warm and I'll have something else hot for you soon."

"Always working," Sarah mumbled sleepily into her mug. "You're just being a worrywart."

"Worrywarts need supper," Davey protested. He emptied the contents of his pockets into his hand. Today had been awful for selling – they'd only made 30 cents, and that would barely be enough to buy papers for tomorrow. He wondered how much he could buy and stretch on a dime. He knew that much would be a treasure to the other boys, but they also only looked after themselves. To feed all ten of the Jacobs though? Davey started to put on his coat when he heard the knock at the door.

"That's probably your mother, Les," Mr. Jacobs said, "Let her in, quickly."

Les obliged, and threw the door open, only to find an empty doorstep. "Hey!"

"Close the door. It's cold," Sarah said.

"It's not cold, it's August," Les protested.

"No excuse for being rude. An' it is too cold. All the rain and wind off the ocean ruined the warm spell from last week," Sarah argued. Les stuck his tongue out at her.

"Hush, Sarah. You're going to hurt your throat," Their father said. She huffed, took another sip of her tea, and stuck her tounge out at Les.

Davey followed him to the door and nearly tripped over a small package. "What's this?" He picked it up and inspected it before realizing there was also a small pot and bag sitting there too.

"Close the Door!"

Davey and Les scooped up the things and quickly shut the door behind them as they retreated back into the house. They set the things on the table and began to investigate. Inside the bag was a lopsided loaf of bread, and chocolate cookies sat in various degrees of overcooked crumbs inside the box. Les snatched one and ate it before Davey could smack his hand away.

"These are good!"

"Who brought those?" Sarah asked. She shivered and tucked the blanket around her to keep out the draft.

Davey shook his head in confusion and disbelief. He looked inside the pot and steam billowed out, filling the small apartment with the smell. He quickly replaced the lid and put the pot on the stove to stay warm, before returning to the table. Surely there would be a note or explanation around here somewhere. Nothing came up. He returned to the door, stepping outside quickly and shutting it behind him, and looked around for the Good Samaritan. The landing was empty. He shook his head again and went back inside to scoop Sarah a bowl of the soup.

Davey glared at Les as if to say 'stay away from the cookies' as he gave her the bowl. "There."

She smiled at him. "See. Nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried," Davey objected, "But I do think I know who did this."

_August 9__th__, 1900_

Les' familiar voice broke the early morning quiet in the distribution center. The several calm conversations between the Newsies dropped quiet as the younger boy sprinted across the floor.

"Where did you get those cookies!?" He shouted. Chocolate stained the corners of his mouth and fingers. "Davey won't let me eat all of 'em and he said 'specially not for breakfast, but they're good!" The aforementioned brother trailed behind silently smiling and rubbing his eyes against the bright morning sunlight.

Race jabbed a thumb towards his chest with a triumphant smile. "That woulda been me!"

"Hey!" Albert interjected.

Race ignored him and gave both Albert and Crutchie a side-eye, "Despite _some people's _best efforts to eat 'em all."

"It's only your fault for not sharin' in the first place," Crutchie argued. His legs felt much better after the storm passed and the extra rest, and he was more than ready to give Race a hard time for his claim.

Davey crossed the distribution floor to stand next to Jack, who watched the ensuing debate with a tired smile. "Thank you."

"For what?" Jack asked. He shrugged as if nothing happened.

"You didn't have to do all that, you know?"

"What if we's wanted to?" Armed with crossed arms and a smug grin, Davey realized that there would be no debating with Jack and smiled back.

"I'm guessing Crutchie told ya."

"' Course he did."

"I asked him not to."

"' Course ya did. You're too stubborn." Jack uncrossed his arms now. "Is she doin' alright? No one else is sick yet? You don't look as dead as ya did the past few days."

"No, not yet. And Sarah's feeling much better this morning, we all slept much better last night without her coughing. Thank you again."

"It's the least we could do."

"It couldn't have been easy though," Davey insisted, gesturing to Race, Albert, and Crutchie who were still bickering. "You've got your own brothers to look out for, and we got folks to take care of us for the most part."

Jack shook his head. "Davey, when are you going to learn? You're a Newsie. Same as the rest of us. You an' Les are our brothers too, which makes Sarah and the others girl our sisters, so I'm goin' ta look after you all when I can."

Davey opened his mouth to argue again, but Jack cut him off as he continued, "You helped save the strike even if it coulda hurt your family when you didn't have the money, your family's fed us on more times than I can count, you fixed the leak in the lodging house, I'm sure we could go on with more. You're just as much a big brother to this lot as you are to your own siblings. You're just as much a big brother to them as I am."

The circulation bell rang, startling both boys out of their conversation. Wiesel and the Delancey brothers rolled the carts of newly printed newspapers onto the floor. Neither looked up at the headline. Jack looked Davey in the eye and gave him one last smile before parting to keep the Newsies in order and buy his own papers.

"You helped us. It's our turn to help you."

**A/N:**

**I hope you all enjoyed this last chapter in the story! My posting schedule once again turns erratic as I have to move into college and start classes this upcoming week, but I should be back with a new story in a few weeks. Thank you to everyone who's read for their patience and understanding support!**


	13. Bands of Brothers

Crutchie jostled his way through the heavy midday crowd of the market square, fighting to keep his momentum going against the swarming people. Though it was hard to move with so many people treading on his toes and knocking his crutch about, he smiled. The more the merrier.

Soon enough, he'd reached his favored selling spot. He normally set up along the work roads to sell to laborers traveling to their job sites in the mornings, then moved to the market for lunch, and his little bench in a corner of the square was a good a place as any. He sat and slung his bag of papers into his lap, then set his hat up-side down on the bench next to him.

"How you doing today, Crutchie?"

He glanced up to see the kind face of Mr. Groves holding a cup of water out to him.

"Sittin' on top of the world, thank you!" He replied cheerily, taking the cup from the kindly grocer and handing him a paper in return. "You ready for the crowd?"

Mr. Grover laughed in return. "Start signing, then ask me." Crutchie grinned at the challenge, took a sip of the water, and started his song.

"_Hello, my friends, Good day to you too! I do what I like, and I like what I do!"_

A couple walked past and dropped a coin into his hat. He smiled and handed them their paper without breaking the rhythm.

"_I'm a Newsie for sure, and as you can see, my friend here's a grocer of highest degree! No kindness or flatter do we ask of you, just find out my headline, and get some lunch too!_

A young girl holding her younger brother's hand wandered past and stopped to listen a moment. He tugged on her skirt and she gave him a penny to put in Crutchie's hat as she began to buy them lunch. He winked at the little kid and gave him both a pape and a piece of candy from his pocket.

"_Hello, my friends, good day to you too. I do what I like, and I like what I do! No kindness or flatter do I ask of you, but me cap would be glad for a penny or two!"_

Another two pennies dropped into his hat as a hand reached over his shoulder and a second voice joined his as he finished another chorus. He spun around to see who was the other singer.

"Ms. Medda! Imagine seein' you out here! What are you doing so far from your theater?" Crutchie smiled as Medda moved around the bench to sit next to him.

"Even performers need to eat," she laughed, "and I was just lucky enough to run into you! You have a great voice you know."

Crutchie rubbed the back of his head awkwardly and grinned, "'Spose so, if it brings people in."

"I bet it could bring people into a theater!" Medda said casually, though she smirked like she had a secret. Crutchie did a double take as he tried to figure out what she meant.

"Me in the theater?"

"That's right!" she jabbed a finger at his chest. "I have a favor to ask you."

"Oh no, did Jack put you up to this?" Crutchie asked.

"Noooo, but he did tell me where to find you."

"So you didn't just 'run into me'! How fortunate." He winked. "It's always a pleasure to see you, even if you are asking me to do something crazy."

"Guilty as charged," Medda raised her hands in mock surrender. "Now are you gonna let me ask you my favor or not?"

"I'm all ears."

"My usual shows are getting old, and I need to mix it up a little so I can get the common people in the seats. I've always got the rich ones and reporters and such who can afford the time to come, but the one's that got trouble are you working folks – and where better to escape than the theater? So I got to thinking, what if I let working folks be IN the show!"

"What sort of show could we possibly do?"

"A talent show! Open to the public! I'm willing to bet good money that there's dozens of people like you who have real talent and can't perform because you've got to work."

"So you want me to spread the word! That's a swell idea, but you're going to need publicity and no better people for that than the Newsies." Crutchie winked, "Though that begs the question of why you didn't tell Jack this, seeing as he's in charge."

"Oh, I did. I'm putting an advertisement in the paper, and he's going to have everyone shout about *that* specifically."

"I think I see where you're going with this now…"

"I want you to be in the show."

Crutchie shrugged. "I don't know, I've never been on stage before – I wouldn't know what to do. And I mostly make up my songs as I go. And I ain't as good a singer as you."

"That doesn't matter! It's supposed to be fun!"

Crutchie considered for a moment. "Could I perform with someone else? My friends? The other newsies?"

"Of course! Think of how much easier it will be to sell papers if people know you've been on stage!"

"That's a good point," Crutchie said, nodding. "It's easier to keep regulars coming than to make new customers, but if people get familiar with you and you become a regular to them, it's also easier to pull 'em in."

"Do any of the other newsies sing?"

"Well, Jack can paint your backdrops for the thing. A few of 'em can do tricks – acrobatic stuff and dances. Romeo, Mush, Finch, and Buttons do a quartet sometimes which is pretty silly. Davey don't seem much like the performing type, but I can ask him if his family would like to try." Crutchie checked off his friends on his fingers as he tried to do the mental tally of their respective abilities.

"Could you?!"

Crutchie grinned, "Anything for you Ms. Medda."

* * *

Davey moved to the table with the pot of stew and began scooping it out into the family's bowls as Sarah came after him holding slices of freshly baked bread and Les set the table with spoons. The worked in companionable silence until the door swung open with a loud bang. Rebecca and Anna rushed into the apartment, shouting hellos while their mother tried to collect and hang up their hats on the hooks by the door.

"Hi, Ma!" Sarah said brightly, "Dinner's almost ready!"

"Thank you, dear. How was work today?" She joined her daughter at the counter and began cutting vegetables.

"Good, I finished that dress I was telling you about."

"And you, Davey?"

"It went well." He considered if he even wanted to broach the topic of his conversation with Crutchie earlier that day. The last thing he wanted to do was be on stage, but the girls would love the chance to show off and it would be a fun change of routine to watch if nothing else. They sat down and started to eat. Rebecca hummed a song between bites and Les drummed on the table with his silverware.

"Crutchie told me something interesting today."

"Oh? He's not planning another prank, is he?" their mother asked with a laugh.

Davey smiled and shook his head. "He talked with Ms. Medda today – she runs the theater – and she wanted to know if any of us would be interested in being in a community talent show. I don't want to perform, but the girls could sing if they want, and it might be fun to watch."

A chorus of delighted shouts sounded from the kids who began clamoring about ideas for an act. Mr. Jacobs finished his bite of food and frowned as he set down his spoon. "When is this? We can't afford to take a day off work to go play at the theater – we've had enough as it is this month with Sarah being sick and my leg."

Sarah's face fell and she glanced sideways at Davey in apology.

"Da! She couldn't help it!" Les protested, jumping to his sister's defense.

"Yeah! And she did all my mending!" Rebecca countered, before giving Sarah a winning grin, "Thanks, by the way." Sarah smiled in acknowledgement but didn't lift her head. She knew her father's words were true. They couldn't take another unexpected expense, and though the Neswie's generous gift had helped greatly for the time, they'd still nearly depleted their savings trying to make ends meet.

Davey shook his head. "It would be on Sunday so as many people as possible could attend. We wouldn't have to miss work at all."

"We can't afford to burn out from all work and no play either," Ms. Jacob's added with a meaningful glance at her husband before turning again to address her oldest son. "Is there an entrance fee?"

Davey gulped down the last of his soup so he could answer. "Yes, a small one – only a few cents per person. But Marie, Isiah, and Jonah would be free and the entrance fare goes toward a prize for the winning act!"

"If we all acted, we wouldn't have to pay to get in would we?" Anna asked hopefully.

"Probably not."

"There! That's it!" Rebecca declared. She gestured wildly with her spoon, flinging broth across the table. Sarah laughed and moved to mop it up with her dishcloth. "Only Mom and Dad have to pay to get in and with all of us performing, we might have the chance to win the prize! We can't NOT do it!"

"What would we do?" Sarah asked.

"I can whistle all of Maple Leaf Rag!" Les announced proudly.

"I can spin in circles for a really long time! Watch!" Marie shouted. She scrambled down from her high chair and started twirling about on the kitchen floor. Davey caught her by the arm before she was able to run into something.

"Very nice, Marie! But maybe not at dinner ok? It's too crowded; you'll get hurt. Why don't you finish your soup and then we can play?"

"Ok," Marie pouted. Davey helped the toddler climb back into her chair and started to cut her potatoes into smaller pieces as the others continued babbling their ideas. Their parents watched in bemused silence, content to let their children do the organizational work so long as they didn't have to break up any arguments. Davey continued his conversation with his littlest sister until he heard Les shout his name above the chatter.

"-piano!"

"What was that?" The table fell quiet as Les started to explain their plan.

"We can make a band! Da's been teaching Rebecca to play his old fiddle and I can keep a drumbeat. Sarah and Anna sing. And you play the piano!"

Davey shook his head. "That sounds like a great idea, but I'd rather not perform if I don't have to."

"Oh Come onnnnn, Davey!" Rebecca appealed.

"We need you to accompany us!" Anna added.

"Ms. Medda probably has a piano, doesn't she? And you're just fine playing at church whenever Mr. Smith isn't there! You can handle performing at the theater!" Sarah argued. She pointed her fork at him with a smile and a glare. "Besides – you said yourself that if we all perform that's the most sensible way to do it. Don't back out on us now."

"Alright, alright, fine," Davey raised his hands in mock surrender, frowning even as he gave up the argument. They'd have to practice at some point, and as Da had already pointed out, they didn't have the time to spare. "I'll enter us tomorrow."

Marie squealed and clapped her hands together, "Davey's gonna play! Davey's gonna pla-ay!"

He smiled now , "Thank you for that vote of confidence. You'd better cheer loudest."

* * *

"Stop fidgeting!" Sarah scolded. She pulled Les back towards her as he tried to escape her grip and wet washcloth. "You don't plan to go to onstage looking like a ragamuffin, do you?!"

"Stop it, Ma, the only people who are gonna be here are our friends!" he protested.

"You don't know that and either way it don't matter. You might sell on the street, but I won't have you looking like a Dickensian urchin. Now sit still!"

"Five minutes until you're on!" Medda's head poked around the corner. Her bright pink dress shimmered in the dim light of backstage. Anna waved cheerfully and Rebecca shook her hand, pumping it up in down with more excitement and power than one would expect from a girl her size. Medda grinned and knelt to talk with them at their level. "You ready?"

"Mmhmm!"

"We practiced a lot last night! Les still can't keep a beat though."

"Hey! What is this? All my sisters are giving me the third degree today!" Les exclaimed, shaking his head. "Such a shame. You'd think they'd have a little more respect for the founder of the band?"

"You? Founder?" Anna scoffed. "That'd be me. I'm the lead singer. I ought to be in charge."

"Nice shot, short-stuff," Sarah said as she passed, ruffling Anna's hair as she did. "Mom put me in charge."

"You're just jealous because you're an alto," Rebecca argued, coming to her twin's defense, "And Anna can sing the parts you can't."

"That's not it at all!"

Medda laughed and shook her head before straitening up and heading to check on the next act. "I'll leave you to it. Three minutes!"

Davey glared at his squabbling siblings as he nervously stretched out his hands. "Please stop fighting. We need to make a good impression!"

Several of them stuck their tongues out at him and he rolled his eyes. "You don't want to distract Crutchie do you? He's on! Go watch him and be quiet."

"Crutchie's on?!" Les cried – nearly breaking his stage whisper. He pulled out of Sarah's grip and rushed to the wings. The others soon followed him and stood in silence to listen to their friend sing.

He was wearing a suit borrowed from one of Medda's regular performers and Jack had re-painted his crutch for the occasion. He sat in on a stool in the middle of the stage among the backdrops of people relaxing in Central Park, seeming as totally in his element as he did when he sat singing in Central Park selling his papers.

"_When first I saw the love-light in your eyes  
I dreamed the world held not but joy for me  
And even though we drifted far apart  
I never dream but what I dream of thee._

_I love you as I never loved before  
Since first I met you on the village green  
Come to me or my dream of love is or  
I love you as I loved you when you were sweet  
When you were sweet sixteen"_

His voice filled the theater with the last lines of the song and when the music swelled to a close, the theater exploded in applause. He beamed out at the crowd and bowed once, twice, waiting for the clapping to stop, before running off stage to the gathered family. The warm welcome was cut short by Medda's voice coming from the stage.

"Wasn't that so sweet?! Thank you to Andrew "Crutchie" Morris for his lovely rendition of 'When You Were Sweet Sixteen!' Next up we have the Jacobs Family performing the Maple Leaf Rag by Joplin – with original lyrics and arrangement by David and Sarah Jacobs!"

She gave a huge smile and waved the kids onto the stage. Sarah made one last adjustment to Les's tie before all but pushing the younger ones onstage and following out behind them. Davey helped one of the aids roll a piano onto the stage as another set up drums for Les. Rebecca adjusted her grip on her father's fiddle and raised it to her shoulder, waiting for the command from Sarah.

"One, two, one, two –"

Davey struck up the opening chords on the piano, and soon Les and Rebecca's instruments joined his in harmony. Anna and Sarah's voices entered just in time for the first voice, weaving around each other to match the melody.

Jack came around the backstage from where he was helping work the curtain to meet Crutchie and pulled him into a hug. "Hey! Great job up there!"

"Ah, Thanks!" Crutchie said, still grinning. "Stay here a while? Davey and the others are playing now!"

Jack nodded and the fell silent to watch the performance. Les kept a surprisingly accurate time while looking like he'd rather be nowhere else. Sarah and Anna's singing almost sounded like acting as they traded parts. Davey's hands danced over the piano keys as Rebecca danced in her place – twirling as she teased musing out of the old strings.

They were all smiling – even the stage shy Davey.

"They're good," Jack whispered.

"Real good," Crutchie agreed, humming along to the familiar melody. He'd have to ask Davey for his lyrics sometime. "Who's up next?"

Jack grinned, "The Scrappy Songbirds." Crutchie broke down laughing and took a seat on the floor. Jack joined him. The impromptu acapella group that was Romeo, Mush, Finch, and Buttons had started as a joke one cold spring day and quickly become a favorite past-time in the lodging house.

"Do you think they can beat the Jacobs?"

"Or do you think the Jacobs can beat them? Jack countered.

"They're not THAT bad, no matter what Race says."

Jack laughed and paused for a moment to listen more to the song. "I'm sure glad you took Medda up on this. It's been fun."

Crutchie smacked lightly Jack with his cap. "You put her up to it!"

"She told you I asked?" Jack shook his head and shot Crutchie a mischievous look, "Tsk tsk, she shouldn't have said that. Can't help it that she likes me enough to take me up on this crazy an idea."

Crutchie smiled and leant back against the wall of the theater. "I'm glad I did too."

Applause filled the theater as the song came to a close. They could hear a young girl – probably Marie – cheering in the front row as the Jacobs held hands to take their bow.

"I'm glad I did too."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hello Everyone! I've got a few announcements so I'm going to jump right in:**

**Firstly, a HUGE Thank you to the amazing Percie Jean for the idea for this chapter! She raised the ideas of the Jacobs' kids making a 5-man-band and the Newsies doing a talent show a while ago, and I had a ton of fun writing this chapter! The reference to the "Scrappy Songbirds" comes from her fic Kings and Kingdoms, which explores what the Newsies wish for in the "King of New York" song. If you liked this, be sure to go check out her work!**

**I'm starting to run out of original one-shot ideas for this fic, so I am now taking suggestions! If there's a situation you want to see the Newsies in or a plot-line you want to see explored, feel free to leave your ideas in the reviews or PM me! This fic is strictly rated K+ so please keep any ideas PG. I also want to give everyone's ideas equal weight and so please keep them simple enough that they can fit into a one-shot format (roughly 2000-3000 words, or 4-6 pages in Microsoft Word). I'd love to hear what you guys come up with! Your support is honestly one of the main reasons I'm still writing and publishing fanfic, and this is how I want to say thank you. :)**

**I have officially started college! I'm very sorry this last update took SO long as it's been nearly a month, and wanted to give a little bit of explanation. My schedule is all over the place as I settle into the whole university scene and clubs start meeting, and my work levels are variable from week to week. I'm going to do my best to maintain a regular bi-weekly posting schedule but I can't make any promises as to when your particular idea one-shot will be published or in what order they're going to be published. Thank you so so much for being so patient and still reading after all this time!**


	14. Babysitters

Davey awoke to the bedframe shaking and squeaking as Les tried to climb over him. He groaned and pulled a pillow over his face, hoping to roll over and go back to sleep, only to be rudely reawakened when Les's foot caught on the twisted sheets. He fell on top of Davey in a tangle of covers.

"Hey!"

"Sorry!"

Davey groaned again and shoved Les off of him and out of the bed. "Tha' hurt," he grumbled.

"I said sorry!" Les picked himself up off the floor and snatched the pillow off of Davey's head. He smacked him lightly in the face. "Wake up!"

Davey feebly blocked and snatched the pillow back, rolling away from the morning antagonist. "Why're you up so early?"

"It's my birthday! Is that any way to treat a ten-year-old? By pushing him out of bed?"

"Good for you. Maybe I wouldn't have done that if you didn't jump on top of me," Davey mumbled, already slipping back into sleep.

"David!" His mother's sharp voice came from the kitchen space on the other side of the thin curtain separating their bed from the rest of the apartment's living space. "You need to wake up and have some breakfast before you go to work. Come on." She pulled back the curtain so that the early morning light could filter into the small space.

Les took his seat at the table as Davey dragged himself out of bed and shrugged on his vest. Sarah set his breakfast in front of him – oatmeal with an extra helping of raisins and nuts with jellied sweet bread on the side. "Happy Birthday, Les!"

Les grinned in thanks and dug into his breakfast, talking about all his plans for the day between bites of oatmeal. Davey frowned at the open-mouthed eating and took his own place to eat breakfast in sullen silence. It wasn't long before they left for the distribution center, Les chattering all the way. He ran up to Jack as soon as he saw his favorite older Newsie.

"Hey kiddo, what's got you so excited this morning?"

"It's my birthday! I'm really ten years old now! I'm practically an adult!"

Jack laughed and glanced up in time to see Davey rolling his eyes for not the first time that morning. "Well Happy Birthday! You sure ain't getting any younger, though I'm sure your brother's got something to say about that." He squinted and put his hand on top of Les's head as if he were measuring how much he'd grown up overnight.

"He's being a grouch this morning because I fell on him," Les announced, proudly standing on his tiptoes in an attempt to seem taller.

"Why don't you go play before the papers come out?" Davey asked more assertion than request. Les shrugged and ran off to find the rest of his friends. Davey only shook his head. "He's goin' a be exhausting today."

Jack clapped his friend on the shoulder. "You look beat. Why don't you let him sell with me today?"

"You sure?" Davey glanced over to where his younger brother was jumping up and down about something Crutchie had told him. "He's… a bit much."

"For sure! He ain't that hard to handle," Jack said confidently. "Who knows? He may be older now – but that attitude still sells."

Davey smiled now, "I am supposed to stop by the toymakers and get him something small for a gift, and I can't exactly do that with him shadowing behind me. Thank you for offering to babysit him for me."

Jack shook his head and winked at Davey, "Don't let him hear you call him a baby. I'm sure our little adult would not take too kindly to that sentiment."

Davey laughed. "No. No, he would not."

* * *

"Where're we goin' next, Jack?" Les skipped along the sidewalk, easily keeping pace with Jack's determined strides.

"Central Park."

"Why?"

"You ask too many questions."

"Well," Les huffed as if his reasoning was obvious. "We don't normally go to Central Park when we sell together. Our morning was the same as usual, but now we're going there instead of walking that way more." He pointed behind them. "I wanna know what we're doing."

"You, my small friend," Jack teased, "are going to keep selling with Crutchie. Miss Medda asked me to finish up a background for her today, and the shows just let out. I'm going to finish it while the theater is empty, then come get you again to finish the day."

Les, seemingly content with this answer, quieted and fell into step beside Jack until they reached Crutchie's selling spot. Les rushed to a passerby to try to make a sale as Jack explained his situation to Crutchie before waving goodbye and making his way towards the theater. Les made his sale and his way to Crutchie's side.

"Ready to go?"

Crutchie gave him a wry smile, "I'm staying here kiddo. I have a couple more regulars to meet, and I wouldn't be able to keep up with you besides."

Les nodded his understanding and sat down to wait as Crutchie whistled a tune. Pedestrians wandered along the garden paths in the distance, but their own corner of the park was empty.

"Isn't this slow?"

"Who's a doubting Thomas today? I have done this before, you know."

"But there's no one here!"

Crutchie glanced at the sky in an attempt to assess the time. "Ms. Audrey is bound to be here any minute now, just be patient."

A tap on his shoulder came from behind the park bench, "Ah! Speak of the devil!" In a matter of minutes, Crutchie struck up a whole conversation with his favorite chicken lady. Les half-listened to the conversation, boredom nagging at his mind. He'd _never _finish selling at this rate. The swishing sound of a lady's skirt caught his attention, and he swiveled around in his seat to look for the sound. A group of ladies passed by on the opposite path. Les mumbled a brief explanation to Crutchie and took off across the green, blatantly ignoring the signs that instructed: "keep to the path."

He followed the women for a few minutes, chatting with them and selling several papers among the bunch, before realizing he's strayed far from Crutchie's selling spot. He considered turning back, but the park was so pleasant and he loathed to go back to just sitting still quite yet. He wandered a little while longer, searching for his next target when he heard a familiar voice screaming a phony headline. He ran in the direction of the voice, bag bumping against his leg as he moved.

"Hey! Elmer!"

The cries stopped as the older newsie turned to look for the source of the shouting. "Les! What are you doing here?" It was rare to see Les when he wasn't shadowing either Jack or Davey, and the last thing Elmer wanted was the responsibility of looking after the rambunctious nine- no, ten – year old.

"Selling, same as you. Can I stay here for a while?"

"Ain't you supposed to be with Jack?"

"He's painting at Medda's right now."

"Then go find him! You know how to get there!"

"Go on my own?"

"You're ten now, aren't you? That's plenty grown up to walk from here to the theater on your own. Davey babies you too much." He paused, "Don't tell 'im I said that."

Les laughed and waved his good byes. Elmer was right. He was ten now. And he would sell on his own today.

* * *

Jack emerged from the theater, blinking at the mid-afternoon sunlight. He would have just enough time to collect Les and finish selling to the dinner-end-of-work crowd before going back to the circulation floor at sundown if he hurried. He quickly made his way to the park, selling a few papes along the way, until he reached Crutchie's usual bench.

He wasn't there.

Jack frowned and looked around. It wasn't much like Crutchie to change his routine up so wildly unless something went wrong. And with the way the weather was looking, he wouldn't be able to go far without stopping to rest, so something must have gone _really _wrong. But he also wouldn't be far away.

It didn't take Jack long to stumble across Crutchie slowly making his way along the main path.

"Is everything ok?"

"Oh, Jack, thank goodness! Do you have Les?"

A shock of panic went through Jack as he looked around wildly for the younger Newsie. "No! I left him with you for a reason!"

"I thought maybe he went back to the theater to meet you! I turned my back to sell a paper and he was gone!"

Jack shook his head in frustration. "Keep selling and meet us back at the lodging house like usual. I'll find him. He was my 'sponsiblilty."

"You want me to come too? Split up? Cover more ground?"

Jack shrugged, already stalking off. "I swear I don't know how Davey manages that kid."

* * *

Les wandered happily along Central Park in the general direction of Medda's theater. He was in no rush and had nearly sold most of his papes already, but he was getting bored again. He really needed to find another Newsie or two. He stopped to catch his bearings. Didn't Finch and Sniper sell near here? Les frowned and changed directions, taking a right onto a path that carried him back towards the city. It wasn't long before the familiar voices came into earshot. Les rounded the corner to find his friends standing on the street corner, shouting their headlines. He stood behind the wall separating the park from the city, watching and waiting for a good time to greet them. That's when he noticed their slingshots rested on a nearby bench with the remains of their lunch.

Les glanced at the distracted newsies, then back to the slingshots and grinned. He fixed his hat and set his bag on the ground before dashing out from behind the wall and snatching one of the slingshots and retreating back to the cover of the wall before the other newsies could spot him. He searched the ground for some suitable acorns and loaded the weapon, taking up a suitable firing position around the corner. He only had one shot at this.

Snap.

Thud.

"Les Jacobs! Get back here this instant!"

Les laughed and sprinted off, dropping the slingshot and seizing up his bag as he rounded the corner. Sniper's indignant shouts lowly faded as he gained distance and the other newsies gave up the chase. He finally slowed down as he found himself on a busy street, packed with people.

A lady in a green walking skirt walked past him. He recognized her from the park and stopped to see where she was going.

"Hello! You look beautiful today miss, would you like to buy a paper?" Romeo jumped out from a storefront to stop the young lady. She stopped as she heard the sudden question, and turned to address him.

"I'm sorry, but I already bought one today."

Romeo shook his head, "tsk tsk. Do you recall what the newsie looked like? I'll have to give him a hard time for stealing such a prize."

The girl rolled her eyes, but before she could answer, Les walked up behind her. "I believe that would have been me, Romeo," he said with a cheeky smile. "It's not my fault the ladies all love me."

The girl stifled a laugh and excused herself, moving on with her bags and disappearing into another boutique. Romeo turned to glare at Les. "That's not fair!"

Les shrugged, "I said it's not my fault! Who are you selling with?"

"Henry. He got distracted though. And Jack says I'm bad." He shook his head ruefully. "Wait, ain't you supposed to be selling with Jack today? I see! He let you sell on your own for your birthday! Good for you!"

Les nodded slowly. "Yeaaaahhhhh, I'm selling on my own today. I really should be moving on, though."

"Alright." Romeo broke eye contact with Les as his head was turned by another pretty figure moving on the other side of the street. When he turned back, the younger newsie had already made his way along the street, waving behind him.

* * *

Davey hummed to himself as he made his way to his next selling spot for the evening. The morning had been a blissful quiet without the constant chatter of his shadow, and between sells he'd had the chance to make some headway on his latest story – solutions always came when he wasn't intentionally thinking of how to solve that problem, and now he couldn't wait to finish this scene. He knew that his family would be too busy with Les's birthday celebrations that night to spare much time for writing, but maybe after they went to bed, his mother would be willing to spare him a few minutes.

It wouldn't be long before he'd have to meet Jack and Les at the distribution floor. For as annoying as his younger brother could be, he hoped Les was having a good birthday, and that he'd had a good time selling with Jack.

Davey stopped on a corner to recount his newspapers and decided this would be as good a place as any to finish selling for the day. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a familiar short figure walking across the other side of the street. He glanced up, but the person had been obscured by the crowd. He shook his head. He must really miss Les to think he was seeing him in a crowd of strangers. Maybe he wasn't SO annoying after all.

Davey smiled to himself, pulled out another paper, and shouted the headline. It wouldn't be long now.

Les slowed from a sprint to a stop, gasped, and ducked behind the nearest building to catch his breath. How had he been so careless to wander into Davey's spot of all the place?. He would be _furious_ to find out Jack and Crutchie had lost him, and Les just couldn't let them get in trouble when he'd been the one to wander off.

He really should go back to the theater. Or to the park. But Crutchie and Jack were probably already worried sick looking for him, and they wouldn't be there anymore. And it was such a long walk, and he'd gone so far today already. But he couldn't stay here.

Could he?

Would Davey really be so upset to see him alone? It would be so much easier to just go to his brother and sit down for a while to tell him all about his adventures. He _wanted_ to tell Davey about his adventures.

Les shook his head. Who was he kidding? Davey would probably just lecture him. So, then what was he supposed to do?

"Hey, Les. Are you alright?"

Les stifled a squeak of surprise and whirled around, only to find Mush standing behind him with a worried look on his face. Two others rounded the corner after him. "It's only me and Buttons and JoJo. What are you hiding for? Did the Delancey Brothers find you? Where's Jack?"

"I got lost," Les answered.

"Davey's just around the corner," Jojo said, puzzled.

"I wasn't selling with Davey. He'll be mad if he finds out I'm on my own though, Jack and Crutchie were s'posed to be watching me. Can I sell with you for now?"

Mush's brow knitted as he tried to puzzle out how on earth Les had found himself in this situation, and gave up on trying to make sense of it. "We're already a trio so we don't need another person. Tell you what – Sheepshead isn't far from here. Follow this street for a few blocks and you can't miss it. You can find Race by the betting booths. He'll help you out, and it's away from where Davey's standing."

Les smiled in relief, quickly said his thanks and goodbyes, and started in the direction of Mush's pointing. Race would be the perfect person to sell with, he was always finished early and then they could go back to the distribution center before anyone else would be the wiser. It was perfect. And Race would be thrilled to sell with him, he was sure of it. It would be fun!

* * *

"No!"

"But Race!"

"Don't 'but Race!' Me! We're going back to the distribution center right now!" Race tugged Les by the ear out the front entrance of the Sheepshead Racetrack, bag thumping against his leg as the shorter Newsie tried to keep up with his fast strides. "What were you thinking?!"

Les opened his mouth to explain himself, but Race cut him off.

"That's right, you didn't. You should know better than to wander around the city on your own – we even send the older ones out in pairs or trios – Finch and Sniper, Mush and the young'uns. You should have stayed with Crutchie when Jack left you with him."

"Don't be mad at Crutchie, Race!" Les protested. "And I'm safe now, aren't I?"

Race grumbled, "That's beside the point. You could have really gotten hurt – what if you picked a fight with a drunk again?"

"That wasn't my fault!"

"Yeah, but it happened! And if Davey hadn't of taken the soakin' for you, then where would we be, huh?"

Les sobered at the reminder, but couldn't help but try to get the last word in, "You get into scrapes all the time and don't get babied near as much as I do."

"You're not around when Jack lectures me, but I can fend for myself."

"So can I!"

"No. It's our responsibility to look out for you and I can't have you getting hurt on my watch." Race scoffed. "My watch, never thought I'd say that. Now I sound like Jack."

Les rolled his eyes with a huff.

"Don't give me that sass."

"Now you sound like Davey."

Race groaned. "I don't know how he and Jack manage you."

"Not well, apparently," Les mumbled, slightly hurt at Race's berating. He _did_ understand what all the fuss was about, and it was nice to know that they were worried about him, but they didn't have to treat him like such a baby all the time. They'd nearly reached the circulation floor now, and it didn't take long for Jack to spot them. It looked like he'd been pacing around anxiously for hours now, and as soon as he caught sight of the duo, he rushed to their side. Crutchie followed soon after.

"Les! Are you alright? Thanks a million for bringing him back, Race."

"mm fine," Les said, trying to squirm away from Jack's grip.

"Don't mention it," Race grumbled, " 'Specially not to Davey."

"What are we not mentioning?" Davey's voice came from around the corner, shortly followed by the elder Jacob's brother himself.

"That Jack and I had an adventure selling today!" Les offered, brightly. "It's a secret adventure though. So you can't know what we did."

"Is that so?" Davey raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Yeah, it was a birthday adventure," Les affirmed. "Come on! Mom said she was making something special for dinner tonight!" He tugged Davey's sleeve urgently and prayed Jack would play along.

"Thanks for keeping an eye on him," Davey said with a smile before turning to leave. Jack forced a smile back and mumbled something incomprehensible, simply shaking his head at Les.

Davey didn't notice him look back over his shoulder to wink at the others as they left.

Race finally turned to Jack and Crutchie, awaiting and explanation or apology. Crutchie sighed and Jack shook his head. "Can we agree never to speak of this again?"

"Only if you can agree never to let Les out of your sight again."

Jack laughed and spit into his hand. "Deal."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hello! I have nothing to say for myself in terms of posting schedules so let's just agree to not talk about that again. :P I hope you liked this chapter! Thank you so much for your support and for sticking around for so long! It means so much to me and I love seeing such an overwhelmingly kind and positive response to my stories. Thank you!**


	15. Published pt 1

**A/N: **

**Hello and Happy Halloween! I have a (sort of) scary announcement for you! I am ending "You Don't Change the World By Trying to be Like It" (henceforth YDC), and this chapter is the first of a 5-part finale. I love these characters and have had a lot of fun writing these one-shots and short stories, and thank you to everyone who read and reviewed and supported me throughout it! I really appreciate your time and encouragement, and you're the reason I keep writing. **

**That being said, I'm not disappearing entirely! While YDC may be ending because I've run out of one-shot ideas, I have another Newsies fanfiction in the works – a CrutchiexOC shipfic largely inspired by Percie Jean and her own wonderful story "Something Worth Winning." I'm really excited to start the story but will need some time to plan, draft, and edit it before I begin posting. I'd also like to keep a semi-regular posting schedule for that story, so I plan to write a backlog before I begin as well. The rest of this story, Published, will be, well, published, over the next few weeks, and then I will be taking a hiatus through December. I should be back with the new story in the new year!**

**I will still be around the site, reading people's stories, writing reviews, and responding to PMs, so feel free to reach out as usual. This hiatus just refers to my publishing schedule. (See that wasn't so scary of an announcement after all)**

**TL;DR: Welcome to the last story in YDC – I'll be back to publishing in January but will still be around the site. Thank you for your support! Enjoy the story!**

_September 26__th__, 1900_

It was unlike Davey and Les to be late to work two days in a row. It was even more unlike them to go missing altogether, without a word of warning or explanation. It had been a week, without a sign of either brother and though Jack did his best to disguise his worry, Race could tell he was anxious. He noticed the shift of Jack's gaze to where the brothers normally came around the corner in the mornings, the split-second hesitation as he did a headcount and realized two of his boys were missing, the troubled look that clouded his face before he casually shrugged off Antonio's question about when they were coming back, saying, "I'm sure they just got tied up with something back home. They'll be back soon." Race noticed Crutchie's tired slump and the halted humming as he turned to find a familiar voice, only to find no one there.

And he noticed that Les had been a good deal quieter than usual on their last day, before the mysterious disappearance. Something wasn't right, and he intended to find out what it was.

Race squinted into the evening sun to get his bearings. The Jacob's apartment wasn't too much farther, and though it was a bit out of the ways of his normal route back to the lodging house, he was eager to finally get some answers and quickened his pace until he reached their neighborhood.

He stopped short in his steps. A banner stretched across the street to block the passage of traffic, with a few words scrawled on it in large capital black letters. He fought the urge to just duck around the banner and go find Davey, but they (whoever they were) wouldn't have just put up such a large roadblock if what it said wasn't important. He forced himself to squint at the writing and groaned at the first long word he would have to sound out. Q-U-A-R-A-N-T-I-N-E.

Oo-ar-ent-in?

Qu-oor-ant-in-ee?

He moved onto the next line, "Scar-let Fev-ver – Fever – outbreek. Stay amay." He frowned as he realized what the sign was really saying.

"Quarantine. Scarlet Fever Outbreak. Stay Away," he whispered. What should he do? He had to see if the Jacobs were alright. But if he entered the quarantine area, he might bring it back to the lodging house and that would just be worse. He couldn't do that to the others, but he'd already come so far. There had to be some way to find out if they were ok.

Race took a few steps back to look for the Jacob's apartment building, and then from there, where their apartment would be in relation to the street. From what he remembered of last time – fittingly enough, bringing soup to the sick Sarah – it would be right… There. Just inside the quarantine and around the street corner. He wouldn't go inside any of the buildings, and he'd only be there for a few minutes. It couldn't do any more harm than he'd already done by coming here in the first place. Right?

He searched the street for something to throw up at their window. A rock wouldn't do – what if he broke it? Then he realized what he was carrying. He seized a pile of newspapers from his bag and fetched a length of twine from his pocket and quickly tied them into a bundle. It was heavy enough to fly true, but it wouldn't break anything, hopefully. He set the rest of his things on the ground outside the quarantine, took a deep breath, and darted in behind the banner.

No one came to the river on the first throw. Race fetched the bundle and threw it again. And again. Still, no response. He collected the bundle and turned to leave when he heard a hoarse voice coming from above. He spun around to see Davey leaning out the window of the second-story apartment.

"Race! What are you doing here? Didn't you read the-"

"How 'bout letting a brother know you're alive?!"

Davey gave a helpless shrug.

"Are you all doing alright?"

"We'll survive. You shouldn't be here."

"Is there anything we can do to help."

"You shouldn't _be here_, Race. I'm glad you want to look out for us, really, but it's not worth the risk. We'll be fine. Go home before you get sick too." Davey gave him a tired smile and closed the window before Race had the chance to reply.

* * *

"You're late." Jack's accusatory voice assaulted Race as soon as he snuck into the lodging house through the fire escape window.

"Well nice to see you too," Race countered, dumping his things onto his bed and reaching for a cigar.

"Where were you? You know better," Jack jerked his chin at the other Newsies sleeping around the room. "They're antsy enough with the Jacobs being missing, it took everything to get them to shut up and go to bed when you weren't here."

"I was investigatin'," Race grumbled. "You're welcome."

"What sort of-" Jack started to ask. Race cut him off before he could get any farther in the interrogation. He didn't have the patience to listen to a lecture tonight.

"Scarlet Fever."

Jack's face went white. "They're not… They're-"

"Fine, for now. At least Davey says so."

"But he's stubborn."

"I know."

They lapsed into silence for a second as Jack tried to process this new development. They'd dealt with this before, hadn't they? Unless they were sick themselves, it didn't explain why the boys had missed work for so many days, and even if they were, why they didn't tell anyone. Race seemed to send Jack's questions and began speaking again.

"The whole neighborhood is on quarantine. I snuck in and saw him through the window. He's not looking too good, and at any rate, they won't be allowed to leave and start selling until the roadblock is lifted."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

"Didn't think so." Another pause. "Do we tell the others?"

Jack shook his head, "That'll just worry them, or they'll want to go fix it like before and we can't do that now."

"What then? You can't just let them keep worrying without knowing what's going on! I didn't jump a quarantine border today just to keep the others in the dark."

"If they ask, tell 'em they're sick and we can't visit, not this time. Don't say with what. And only if they ask."

Race grumbled something under his breath. Jack groaned, "I'm as worried as you are, but there's nothing we can do about it now."

"I know. I know."

* * *

_September 27__th__, 1900_

Jack picked at some dried paint on his hand as he walked alongside Katherine through Central Park. The conversation lulled, and he found his mind wandering back towards his boys. Though he knew it'd only been a day since Race had returned with the news, the Jacob's prolonged absence didn't do anything to ease his nerves.

"What's the matter?" Katherine asked. Jack's restless energy was too easy to read. Something was wrong.

"How deadly is scarlet fever?"

"What?! Is one of the Newsies sick?"

"We think Davey and Les are – their neighborhood is locked down because of an outbreak. They've been gone for over a week."

A puzzled look clouded Katherine's face. "What do you mean Davey's sick? Davey is fine."

"How do you know?"

"Haven't you seen the paper?"

"Have I seen the paper?" Jack scoffed. "What kind of a question is that? I sell the paper. Unless you're talking 'bout the _Sun_."

"No, the world. I mean, Jack, have you read it?"

He shook his head. "That's Dave's thing. Why?"

Katherine dug through her bag to find the copy of the morning paper that Jack always sold her on her way to her office and flipped to the second page before handing it to Jack. He scanned the headlines until his eyes landed on a story about halfway down the page.

A fiction story. _The Chase of the "Merry Lion." _by David Jacobs.


	16. Published pt 2

Ms. Jacob's knelt by Les's bedside holding a wet washcloth with one hand and feeling his forehead for temperature with the other. He shivered and pulled away from her touch, wrapping himself in another layer of blankets that were already damp with sweat. His face was bright red. She gently pulled the blankets back off of him and moved to fetch a clean sheet. Davey sat in a kitchen chair holding Jonah. He'd finally fallen asleep after crying nearly all night, and Davey rested his head on his free hand in an attempt to rest.

"David, can you-?" His mother's hands were full with the new sheets and a glass of water for Les. She gestured with her foot to the pile of soiled sheets that had begun to collect at the foot of their bed. He nodded in response. Sarah offered to take Jonah, and Davey stood to get the laundry.

"I'll wash these and let them out to dry, Ma. We'll be needing them again. Sarah, do you mind?"

"Go ahead," Sarah said. She shifted her weight so that each twin rested in each arm. "I'll be fine for a little while. Poor dears, they're burning up."

"I'll be quick." Davey picked up the basin and made his way to the water pump, then out to the street. The cool air of the outdoors was a refreshing change from the stuffy warmth of their apartment, and though he was grateful to be out of doors again, he knew he couldn't linger. He glanced at the sky. It was nearly sunset, and the Doctor would be coming soon with the medicine. They just had to weather a few more hours.

Halfway there, he had to stop to rest. He considered sitting down for a moment, just to catch his breath, but he knew if he stopped for too long, he'd be too exhausted to get back up again. With a groan, he picked up the basin again, being careful not to slosh water all over himself, and continued the trek to the laundry lines.

Only a few more hours.

* * *

Jack slowed as he neared the quarantine barrier. Someone was crouched on the street just across the signs, and as he drew closer, he realized that it was Davey, bent over a wash bucket. "Hey!"

Davey glanced up from the laundry as he heard the clatter of footsteps and shout, expecting Sarah to appear with another sack of soiled towels. When he saw Jack, he groaned and dropped the laundry back into the basin.

"You guys are pretty awful about following instructions. I hoped that _you_ would have known better than to come here."

"You're not sick, and I'm not inside the quarantine."

Davey rolled his eyes. "How would you know? Did you really have to risk getting sick to check?"

"Care to explain this?" Jack tossed the paper at Davey's feet, letting it fall open to the second page. Davey's face fell and his expression shifted from concern to anger to sorrow in a split second. When he lifted his head again, he fixed Jack with a look of sheer determination.

"What is there to explain? We needed the money."

"Well first off, would it have killed you to get a message to us? Letting us know you were alright or at least what was going on? The guys have all been worried sick – I've been worried sick – and its total silence from yous. Racer came to find out, you turn him 'way. Say everything's fine! I thought your Pa taught you not to lie? Huh? We coulda helped you!"

Davey winced at Jack's berating. "I didn't say everything was fine. I said that we'd survive."

"Oh yeah?"

"I made sure of that."

"Race also said he offered to help. Brother's don't leave brothers behind. We coulda done something to help you, even tossed a few extra coins up towards the window! You know we look out for each other, Dave, you do it for us all the time! You're too stubborn. Won't ask for help when you need it."

Davey didn't respond. He shook his head and turned back to the laundry, letting Jack continue his tirade. His head pounded and he wished the older Newsie hadn't ever come for more reasons than one. He was too tired for this nonsense. A wave of dizziness crashed over him and he dropped the washboard to grip the edges of the basin in an attempt to keep himself upright.

Jack noticed Davey's sudden shift and white-knuckled grip on the basin and rushed forward to help him, dropping his sentence in the middle of a word. Davey recoiled and pointed to the signs. He backed up.

"You ok?"

Davey nodded, eyes shut. "You shouldn't _be here_, Jack. I'm still getting over this thing and you're gonna get sick too."

"That's not what all this is about?"

"Are you done?"

"Wha-" Jack stopped as Davey lifted his head to glare at him.

"Are you done?"

Jack nodded.

"The fever travels fast. Isiah got sick one night. We were worried but still healthy. The police wouldn't let us leave in the morning. Even the mailmen can only come to the gate. It didn't take long for the other ones to get sick too. Sarah and I were fin- better than the rest, since we've run into this before."

Davey's face fell as he recalled the harrowing events of the last few days. The fits and fever dreams, miserable flushes of heat, and a throat too swollen to drink water. He shook his head to clear his mind and looked back to Jack. "Les was dying."

Jack's brow creased with worry. The thought of Les and the other little Jacob's laying still and sick only reminded him of the last time a sickness swept through the lodging house.

"I had to do something. There's a doctor in the next building over, he can order medicine but it's expensive. And with none of us working and the rent payment coming up… I told him I'd get the money. And I did."

"So they're alright now? They'll be ok?"

Davey nodded.

"You coulda asked us. You know we woulda-"

"You couldn't have helped. It wouldn't have been enough. This was the only way."

Jack nodded in understanding then sighed and turned to leave. He'd been here long enough already and the sudden sobering reminder pressed urgency into the fact that he was putting them all at risk. "Take your time. We'll be happy to see you both when you come back."

"That's just it, Jack - why I didn't tell you. We won't be back."

Jack frowned in confusion. Davey continued, "It's a contract. I wrote to Katherine, and asked her to deliver my story and the offer to the World. Pulitzer sent back the papers. Once we're out of this, the advance from each chapter will be enough… Da wants us to go back to school."

"Oh." Jack struggled to hide his disappointment. He knew how much education meant to Davey, how hard he worked to balance his studies with his role of supporting their family. "That's great! You'll be able to finish all your studies, just like you wanted!"

Davey nodded; a fleeting unreadable expression passed over his face before he forced a smile. "Yeah. I suppose so."

Jack smiled broadly now and stood to leave. "I'm happy for you, really. You're always welcome with us, ya'know. This don't change that you're a Newsie."

Davey gave him a sad smile. "Thank you."

"Let us know if there's anything we can do to help."

"I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise," Davey said. "Now scram before you get sick too."

Jack nodded and left with a parting smile as Davey turned back towards his work, but his grin quickly faded as he made his way back towards the main street. Somehow, he would find a way to hold Davey to his promise. But first things first. Jack shook his head and steeled himself to break the news to the others as he turned toward the lodging house. It would be a long night.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Thank you again to everyone who's read and reviewed! I hope this chapter answered some of your questions from the last chapter!**

**To the guest reviewer who commented on chapters 1-3: I don't know if you're going to be reading this anytime soon, but I wanted to respond, and as I couldn't send you a PM, hopefully, you'll see this. Thank you for your kind words and I'm so glad your enjoying the story! I didn't realize the turn of phrase "man" was anachronistic, so thank you for pointing that out, I'll keep it in mind for future reference. As for Crutchie's real name, I couldn't find any consensus online about what his name really was historically, so had Audrey call him Andrew to pay tribute to Andrew Keenan-Bolger because that was the next best thing (imo), and ran with it for continuity's sake. She's really the only character in this fic who calls him that, since she's known him for a long time (since before he had polio and needed to start using a crutch) and it's just habit for her. I hope that helps clarify some things, and that you're enjoying the rest of the story! **


	17. Published pt 3

"He _sold out_?! To Pulitzer!" Race's accusatory tone sparked a caustic murmur of protests from the other Newsies. Crutchie hushed the boys, a troubled look clouding his own face. They gathered in a circle around Jack's bed to hear the news of his and Race's expeditions.

"What, does he think he's so much better than us that he can't ask for help?" Someone else cried.

"Pulitzer's just gonna trap him somehow, he won't be able to get out."

"Or they'll steal his stories"

"Or not pay him for them if people don't say anything!"

"He didn't betray us, did he?"

Jack's face fell with dismay as chaos overtook the assembly. Yes, none of them trusted Pulitzer, but they knew Davey was trustworthy, so why such a fuss? Had they lost faith so quickly? Had he? Jack shook his head as he realized his hypocrisy and raised his hand for order.

"Quiet! Quiet. Davey didn't sell out to no-one," Jack yelled.

"Then what's this about?" Race gestured to the newspaper that lay open in front of them. It wasn't the story itself being published he was angry about. He couldn't care less about publishing. Davey lied, even when Race was there just that morning. And Davey spilled the truth to Jack, and not him. Didn't he trust him? It wasn't Davey. It wasn't right. More murmuring from the others. Where were the answers? Race realized that the others didn't even know about the fever yet, Jack had only shown them the newspaper upon returning. He rubbed his head and reached for a cigar.

"He did it to save Les!" Jack shouted.

"What's Les got to do with it?" Crutchie asked. His face creased with worry.

"They've got scarlet fever! Woulda all shut up for five minutes to let me talk?"

The room went dead silent as the implications sank in. Finally, Jack was able to recount his conversation, with Race filling in the details he missed as relevant. The room shifted from angry to concerned. Jojo fidgeted nervously with his wind-up toy from the fair, adjusting the gears and levers Davey had shown him to work. Antonio buried his face in Crutchie's side. He only put his arm around the younger boy and leaned his forehead against his crutch as he tried to process what he was hearing. Finch and Albert sat still for once, slumped against the bedframe, knowing there was nothing they could do to help.

"Well, once they're ok, they'll be back, right?" Elmer asked.

"Yeah, they'll only be out for a few weeks?" Albert added. "And we can visit once the quarantine is lifted?"

Jack shook his head.

"They gonna go back to school, aren't they?" Race guessed. "They won't need to sell anymore if he's being paid. How much did Joe the Rattlesnake bribe him with?"

Jack rolled his eyes, "Race, he's being paid."

"Same difference. How much?"

Jack huffed. "Katherine said it's a penny per line for her at least."

Race snatched up the newspaper and started counting. The others clamored around him.

"How much? How much?"

He finished his tally and dropped it back to the table. "Enough."

Jack soon finished explaining and gave the order to start getting ready for bed. The boys obliged, saddened but understanding finally why their friends had abandoned them in the past week. As Crutchie smiled and tucked Antonio into bed, Jack gestured for him and Race to follow him up to the roof. They helped him up.

"It's better if we sleep up here so we don't accidentally get everyone else sick," Jack said by way of explanation, "And I'm guessing you have more questions."

The fake smile dropped from Crutchie's face. "What if it's polio, Jack?! Les, he-"

"It's not, Crutchie," Race groaned. He was too emotionally exhausted to deal with this tonight.

"But they have similar symptoms – what if-"

"It's not," Jack reaffirmed. "The sign said Scarlet Fever, and Davey said the doctor knew the right medicine to get."

Race nodded in agreement. "I even read the sign."

"So it's Scarlet Fever, fine, but that has so many complications – infections, pneumonia, arthritis. He could Die, Jack! Why are you so calm?!

"Davey won't let that happen, Crutchie. That's why he sold his writing. To get enough money for the medicine he needs."

"Yeah… But.."

"He'll be alright," Race said. "Didn't they say the doctor was coming tonight? And Davey was fine."

Crutchie frowned and pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his face in his arms. "I just don't want the poor kid to go through what I went through. What I go through. Every day. He's so young and energetic. He deserves a better life than that. It's Les! I can't even imagine-"

His sentence trailed off as his voice started to crack. Jack reached out towards him. "We should go to sleep. Why don't you sing something to take your mind off it."

"I don't feel like singing tonight."

Jack and Race looked at each other anxiously, unsure of how to further comfort him. They said a strained goodnight and laid down to sleep. Race passed out almost immediately, and Jack was dozing when he heard a clatter from Crutchie's side of the roof. His eyes snapped open but he laid still, watching. Crutchie curled up on his bedroll. His legs were pulled up to his chest and his shoulders were shaking. His crutch was strewn across the roof, dangerously close to the edge.

Jack feigned sleep for a few more minutes until he saw Crutchie's breath even and deepen as he fell into sleep. His shoulders relaxed and his body unclenched, but tears still stained his pillow.

Jack quietly rose from his own bedroll and retrieved the crutch from the other side of the roof. He placed it gently beside his friend and retreated to his own bed again. He couldn't sleep and picked up a pad of paper and pencil.

When morning rose, loose paper blew over the roof. Crutchie groaned and rolled over when one drifted into his face. He pulled it off but didn't look at the drawing to respect Jack's privacy. He was passed out half on top of Race, pencil still dangling from his fingers. Crutchie smiled sadly and started collecting the papers around him, before getting up and fetching the rest. He laid them in a stack next to Jack and moved to sit on the edge of the roof, overlooking the city.

Things didn't look quite so bleak in the sunrise. Maybe, just maybe, everything would be ok.

* * *

**A/N: **

**I know this was a really intense chapter guys but I **_**promise**_** it gets better. :P Thank you as always to everyone who's read and reviewed! I'm so grateful you guys have stuck around for so long, and I hope the last two chapters are a satisfying conclusion to this arc for you! **


	18. Published pt 4

_October 29__th__, 1900_

Les tugged on his shirt collar, trying to squirm his way out of the restrictive buttons without his older brother noticing. They stood on the front steps to their old school, bracing themselves for the day ahead. Davey swatted Les's hand away from his neck. "Stop that, it looks fine."

"I don't see why we have to dress nice. It's _just _school."

Davey rolled his eyes at his brother's protests for not the first time this morning, unwilling to restart the argument yet again. Their mother determined Les had recovered enough to return to school, which meant nice clothes, no matter how much Les protested.

"Come on, we should find your classroom before we're late," Davey insisted, already making his way into the building. Les grumbled and begrudgingly followed. He would be starting 3rd grade, to make up for the year he'd missed. After handing Les off to his teacher, and ensuring that he wouldn't escape, Davey made his way down a block to his own school building and classroom to explain his situation to his own instructor. While he'd missed a year of school, he also kept up with his studies in the meantime, and would be rejoining his old class for their final year before applying to universities. The teacher was understanding, and with a smile and a (normal) handshake, Davey took his seat at an empty desk toward the back of the room. He unpacked his things from his satchel and watched as the room filled with his peers.

The morning proceeded uneventfully Everyone rushed to their seats to begin the morning lesson with no time spared for chatter, and while he was still a little behind on his lessons, he caught up to speed quickly enough. It was surreal. How many times had he imagined this moment? How many hours had he spent in this desk before? It felt totally familiar and foreign, as if the year he was gone had never happened, but he'd never been in a schoolroom before either. Nobody seemed to notice his presence, and when the lunch bell rang, and the others streamed out of the classroom, he followed them to their spot in the courtyard outside.

"Do ya mind if I sit here?" He asked one of his classmates, a shorter boy with sandy blond hair and freckles.

"Sure." He moved over to make room for Davey on the wall. "What's your name?"

"David Jacobs." He'd decided last night that it may be a good idea to go by his real name again, instead of the nickname Jack had given him. He pulled out his lunch and began eating in an attempt to avoid any real conversation, content to just listen to the ambient chatter as he tried to find a way to break into the group once again.

"I'm William," the other boy said, apparently insistent on making conversation, "I moved here last year. I don't think we've met before. Are you new too, since today's your first day? School's been in session for about a month now."

Davey didn't have the chance to answer before another one of his old classmates, James, walked over. "Hullo there David! Where have you been?" William looked confusedly from Davey to James and back again.

"I got a job, but it finished for the year. That's why I'm back," he said briefly, by way of explanation. He hoped not to bring attention to the events of the last year and a half if he could help it, there was simply too much to explain, and he would much rather discuss the day to day normalcy of his classmate's lives. He could only pray that no one would recognize his writing. Yes, it was published, but he'd only _met_ one other person who'd read it – Katherine. He wasn't sure how he'd react to someone else – some stranger - recognizing it.

"Wait! Are you _this_ David Jacobs?" William pulled a newspaper out of his bag and pointed to a name on the second page. "You're the author of _The Chase of the "Merry Lion"_!"

So much for keeping a low profile.

"You write forthe _World_ now?" James asked now, snatching up the paper. "Last I checked you were striking against it! As a Newsie!"

So much for avoiding a lengthy explanation.

Davey nodded hesitantly, "How'd ya know about that?"

"David? Part of the Newsie Strike?!" William asked incredulously. Surely the quiet, mild mannered classmate he saw in front of him _couldn't _be a Newsie of all the things?

"Not only that, he was leading it! I read it in the _Sun_ last summer! I couldn't believe it. Imagine our David, yelling in front of a rally when two years ago he could barely talk loud enough to give a presentation in class! You have to tell us the story."

Davey resisted the habitual urge to roll his eyes and only nodded again. Hadn't he heard enough of that from Jack and the others already? "I can make myself heard when I need to," he said, "You don't really want ta' know about all that."

"I do," William insisted, "How does one go to work as a Newsie, lead a strike, and end up writing for the same newspaper all in one year? You're clearly a good storyteller! We want to hear."

'You sound just like Katherine," Davey laughed, a bittersweet tone tinging his words.

"Katherine?"

"My friend, she's a reporter. So many questions." He set down his lunch and hesitantly started his story, unsure really of where to start or how much to tell. He expected awkward questions, and that he would have to give some explanation, but he didn't expect to realize just how much of his vocabulary had shifted to Newsie slang. Phases that naturally rolled off his tongue now had to be edited preemptively so he would be understood.

Pape became Newspaper – that was the hardest to remember.

Soakin' and Lickin' became Fight.

Hawk became Sell.

Skipped became hid.

Even the concept of "Carrying the Banner" was foreign to these boys. It occurred to Davey that once he wasn't so different. Look at him now, a misfit among those who (seemingly) were his own people, having to scrub his mouth clean of the bad grammar and slang he'd picked up on the streets.

He barely finished his story by the end of lunch and scarfed down part of his meal before rushing back inside for class. The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, between focusing on his own work and being lost in his own thoughts, he barely noticed the time passing. These were people he _knew, _friends, acquaintances, not strangers. Why was it so hard to talk to them, compared to random people on the street? The Newsies were different somehow – they weren't just _friends_, they were brothers, and they said so themselves. These people might not care about each other after they all graduated. They might have forgotten him, if not for his sudden and altogether unexpected fame from his writing, which was absolutely staggering in and of itself. It was too much to process at once, and he looked forward to putting his thoughts to paper later that night, if only to sort out his thoughts.

He was on his way to pick up Les after school when he was stopped short in the street. A familiar voice called from behind him, "Hey there, sir!"

Davey did a double take as he heard the voice of Buttons behind him.

"Wanna buy a pape?!"

"Hi, Buttons!" Davey said enthusiastically. Being outside, and finding a real friend took a weight off his shoulders

"Who're…" Buttons hesitated for a second, before realizing who he'd stopped. "Davey! Boy oh boy will the others be happy to hear you're alive! I almost didn't recognize you with that uniform. You back to school already?"

"Yeah, I started this morning." He responded, shaken, the weight suddenly returning. He'd only been gone for a month, had Buttons forgotten him that fast? Had the others?

"Is Les doing ok? We were all so worried about yous but Jack said we couldn't come visit again. Is everyone else alright?"

"Everyone's fine. The doctor brought the medicine in time, thank God. How're the other Newsies?"

"Good, crazy, you know how they all are. Your stories have been really good for sellin', you'll be happy to know that!"

"Really?!"

"I dunno why you're so surprised, from what Katherine said. Every Tuesday when your next chapter comes out, all we have to do is hawk, 'Next chapter here!' or 'Find out what happens to Tomas and Skipper this week!' or 'Get Chase of the Merry Lion!' and yer out!"

Davey laughed, unsure of how to react otherwise. "Wow, that's.. That's great."

"We have you to thank," Buttons said. "Where's Les?"

"At his school, down the road. I'm on my way to pick him up."

"Tell 'im we say hi!" Buttons said enthusiastically.

"I will," Davey said. Walking away, in the direction opposite Newsie's square, almost hurt.

When Davey and Les got home, he retreated immediately up to the rooftop, citing a headache and needing time to think, overwhelmed with the adjustment of being caught between two worlds. He loved school. He loved the Newsies. He loved writing – it was his source of freedom. He had no choice but to publish, his words weren't his own anymore. People liked his stories. Could he keep it up?

Was it worth it?

* * *

**A/N:**

**Ah the sweet smell of a moral dilemma in the morning… We finally get to see Davey's point of view on the matter at hand. The next chapter will conclude this storyline as well as the YDC fic as a whole, and I really hope you guys find it to be a satisfying conclusion! I'm so grateful to all of you wonderful people who have read and reviewed and stuck with the story to the end – you really encouraged me to keep writing and I can't thank you enough.**


	19. Published pt 5

Davey really didn't know why he started walking.

Homework and an unwritten chapter waited for him back at home. His mother warned him that he'd catch cold by wandering around in the blustery February weather. He didn't care. He couldn't sit in the apartment any longer. He found himself wandering around the city, following his old paper selling route. The quiet streets felt almost surreal and he moved along quickly, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, mind lost in thought.

He almost didn't realize what he was doing when he ducked into Irving Hall, only to find Jack standing on the stage, dabbing at another painting. Hadn't he finished the last one Medda gave him months ago? Davey considered turning around. It'd been so long since they last talked, and their last discussion hadn't exactly ended on a good note. He saw the other Newsies occasionally; they always asked after his family, and that was reassuring, but Jack? He could be so temperamental, and Davey could only guess if he was angry or not for their sudden disappearance. He never had the chance to say goodbye, or even warn them. The secondhand farewell the other boys received through Jack and Race couldn't make up for his decision, or all the stress he'd probably caused in the aftermath.

Davey turned to leave.

Jack stopped painting as he heard the sound of floorboards creaking and turned around just in time to see a figure duck behind the stage. He squinted, unsure of what he was really seeing.

"Davey?"

Why would he be hiding? Jack shook his head. Maybe he was mistaken?

Davey hesitated. Why was he hiding? Did he really not want to talk to Jack? He was here, wasn't he? He was here because he missed the Newsies. Davey stepped out from behind the stage, putting on a small smile as a greeting.

"Fancy seeing you here."

"I thought you said you were done with painting Medda's backdrops after the last set this summer."

"Well, what if she needed a couple extra?" Jack argued, before quieting and turning back to the paint. Davey sat quietly in the front seats, watching. Jack continued working for a little while longer, watching Davey. He didn't make eye contact, rather he stared aimlessly at some distant spot of the canvas, the sort of face he always made when he was mulling over something.

Eventually Jack broke the silence, "I've been taking on more jobs from her recently. Whenever I'm not sellin' papes or at the Lodging house watching the boys, I'm usually here working on something or another, anymore."

"Why's that?"

"Well, it never hurts to have a little extra spending cash," Jack glanced over at Davey now. They locked eyes for a split second before Davey looked away again. Jack continued, "I figure another year or two 'till I can't sell no more, and then it's on the streets for me unless I find another job quick. So here I am."

Davey looked up, puzzled. He'd never heard Jack talk that way before. "You're not thinking of leaving the Newsies?" he asked, incredulous.

Jack raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing.

"You're their leader! There ain't no reason why you can't keep sellin'," Davey explained, realizing even as the words left his mouth how hypocritical he sounded, but still too confused to keep his mouth shut. He couldn't help but flash back to another moment, where he'd begged Jack not to walk out on them. Painting pictures. Saving money. Irving Hall.

"Santa Fe?"

Jack shook his head now, dabbing another blotch of yellow paint onto the canvas. "No, I ain't leaving. I'm going to stay in New York and keep an eye on my boys, that's for sure. But I know I can't be a Newsie forever. Race is a good leader, he'll take care of them for me, him and Crutchie."

Davey fell silent again, trying to process what Jack was trying to say.

"Guess I'm not in too different a position from yourself, if I don't guess wrong."

Davey sighed. "The contract is up this week. If I give Pulitzer another story, we can stay in school the rest of the year. I'll apply to some universities. And from what I've heard, it helps you sell."

Jack took a step back from the painting to squint at it then moved to fix a bare spot, but didn't say anything, and Davey eventually continued, hesitantly. He didn't want to offend his friend, but he didn't know how else to say what was on his mind, and it didn't look like Jack would acknowledge him until he did. "School is… different. I know I'm not your typical Newsie, I thought maybe back at school I'd find… I don't know, people like me, I guess. Friends who read and write and really like learning stuff like I do, but I'd forgotten that I never had that in the first place. I'm more out of sorts there, where on paper it looks like I should fit in, than with you guys."

Now, before Jack had a chance to remark, Davey plowed ahead. "I want to come back. I miss you all, and I'm sorry that I left without a word of warning. It wasn't fair, and Les didn't have any say in it either. I made a decision, and I'm not altogether sure it was the right one."

"We were all awful worried about you. It hit Crutchie hardest," Jack said quietly. He could tell Davey already felt guilty over all this, confliction was written all over his face, but it didn't change the heartache and stress of those first few weeks.

"But if I didn't, Les might not be alive, not to mention everything else that could have gone wrong. Da's leg is better, but he's still struggling to find work and I didn't know what else to do," Davey argued, trying to rationalize his decision more to himself than to Jack. He had already overthought the what-if's too many times to count.

"We know," Jack said. He set down the paint brush and finally looked at Davey. "You did the right thing. You did the _only_ thing. None of us can hold that against you."

Davey smiled in relief at hearing Jack really wasn't upset with him, but it didn't last as he continued talking, "But what now? Les isn't sick anymore, we could come back. We'd both be happier about it, and I can always keep up with my schooling in the meantime. It's hard, but doable. But our family would be back to living off pennies again, at least until Da finds a new job, and it would hurt the rest of you too. I didn't realize my writing could have such an impact that way."

"And the alternative?" Jack realized now that Davey really just needed to talk out the options. He wouldn't talk about this with his parents, they had too much of a stake in it to really give a fair answer. He needed a friend.

"Even if I did come back, it wouldn't last long. Like you said, I can't be a Newsie forever. If I published again, it'd work out better for everyone, at least financially. It makes sense in the long term. And it is really nice to know that people like my work. I'm not used to it, not yet, but I never imagined that people could ever really enjoy my stories. It's nice to have that recognition, but it's not what I ever wanted."

Jack sighed, trying to process. "I can't tell you what to do, Dave. But I can tell you this, if you're worrying about hurting our selling, don't. We miss you both more than we'll miss the money. The rest is up to you to decide."

Davey awoke early the next morning, before the school bell, before the circulation bell, and made his way to the World's Headquarters. The clerk, Hannah, let him into Pulitzer's office, where he was greeted with the next contract and a pen, ready to sign.

He sat down after the brief formalities to read it over. Another four months. Another sixteen chapters, and given the amount of column space, and words per chapter, another one hundred and twenty dollars.

One Hundred and Twenty Dollars. Even more than last time.

It was dizzying, but Davey finally pushed the paper away. "I can't accept this."

"Why, what's wrong with it?" Pulitzer asked, incredulous. "Is it not enough for you?"

Davey took a breath to steel his resolve. He'd made up his mind before even leaving his home. He wouldn't change it now. "No, it's a very generous offer. But I'm not ready to take on another contract."

"And why not? Your little stories have been good for circulation, they're very popular after all. And you know what this means for your Newsie friends," he sneered.

Davey narrowed his eyes at Pulitzer's condescending tone, "Yes… I do."

"Have you spoken to your parents about this matter? Are you sure they'd want you to pass up such a lucrative offer? You really can't afford _not to_, and that's just the bottom line." He said it in a very matter of fact tone, but Davey only shook his head.

"I understand what you're trying to say, but I only wrote to you in an emergency. I needed the _extra _money for medicine. That's has passed now, and with luck, my dad will have a job again soon when his leg's finished healing. I don't need to publish anymore, and I don't want to, I'm done."

Pulitzer inhaled and leaned back in his chair, unsure what to make of this stubborn young man. "You're turning away fame and fortune, for what? I can't understand your motivations, I'm afraid."

Davey gave him a tired look and stood up. Pulitzer was only trying to bait him into changing his mind and the longer he waited the more uncomfortable it would be. "I don't have to tell you _why. _That's nowhere in the contract, and I haven't signed it. I've made my decision not to at this time, and that's that. Thank you for the opportunity."

And with that, he turned and left, leaving Pulitzer blubbering as he walked out.

Katherine paced outside the door, and ambushed Davey as soon as he closed the door behind him. She pulled him around the corner where they could talk out of earshot of her father. "I SWEAR if my dad tried to exploit you over this new deal, I'm going to-"

Davey was smiling, and he cut her off before she could finish her tirade. "I'm out, Kath!"

"You're wHAT?!"

"I didn't sign the new contract."

"I knew it! You're right, my father is a real snake, what did he try to pull on you? I know Hannah helped you get a good deal out of it, and I put in a good word for you last time, but there wasn't a lot I could do after that."

"That's not it, Katherine, and I appreciate your help, I really do. But I don't need to sell my stories anymore so I'm not going to."

Katherine's expression melted from anger to confusion as she realized what Davey was saying. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't you want to publish?" It was all she'd ever worked toward, and she couldn't imagine passing up such a break like that.

"My stories are different from journalism, Katherine, I write them for myself really. I'm glad people like them, it's not like your work where it needs to be heard. I'm content to keep them for myself and keep getting better for a while, and really enjoy what I'm doing instead of monetizing what I love to do."

Katherine nodded, though it still partially eluded her. "But what about your family? School?"

"I'm going to keep studying on my own, and Les and I will go back to being Newsies."

Now Katherine smiled, understanding dawning on her all at once. "That's it, isn't it? The Newsies?"

Davey nodded. "Speaking of which, I'd better get going. If I hurry, I can make it back to the circulation gate before the bell rings!"

"You're starting today?"

"Why wait?!" He grinned now, bouncing just slightly on his toes as he turned to leave.

Katherine pulled Davey back for one last question. "Your writing is really good, and you could go far with it. You just closed off that option. For good."

Davey shrugged, and he gave Katherine a mischievous grin, "No I didn't. I could always go to work with you at the _Sun._"

Now Katherine laughed as she realized what had just happened behind those office doors. "You're clever, Davey."

He winked at her and jabbed a finger over his shoulder. "I'm sure they'll be eager to steal me away from him. Just like they snatched you up too."

"Oh my father would _hate _that, I can't wait to see the look on his face! Let me know if you decide to publish again. I'm starting to get more traction again, so I just might be able to arrange something."

"Good for you!" His expression softened now into a smile of heartfelt gratitude. "Thanks for everything, Kath."

"Anytime."

Crutchie took his seat on the distribution floor and watched the younger Newsies slowly trickle out of the Lodging House as they prepared for the day. They'd fallen into their old routines after the Jacob's absence, and while a sense of normality had returned after the couple of months, the palatable sense that something was missing never completely left. Crutchie rested his head in his hands, tempted to drift back to sleep even for just a few minutes. He'd not been sleeping well lately.

"Hey Everyone!"

A high-pitched voice cut through the chatter and commotion, and Crutchie opened one eye to figure out what was going on. It almost sounded like Les, but maybe he was hearing things since he was so tired.

No. Les came sprinting around the corner, hat askew and satchel flapping as he ran into the distribution floor, his older brother nearly jogging to keep up with him. Crutchie started up. "Les?! Davey!" He rushed to the boys, as did the rest of the Newsies, eager to welcome back their lost members.

"Where were you?" JoJo yelled. Antonio and Buttons nearly tackled their friend in their enthusiasm and Davey received more than his fair share of friendly punches and hugs alike.

"School," Les said scornfully.

"What are you doing back here?" Crutchie asked Davey. "I thought you were a professional author now."

"Not anymore," Davey said cheerfully. "I quit this morning. We're back, that's what matters."

Crutchie laughed and shook his head, confused but too happy to see his friends again to care. "We're glad you are." He pointed his finger at Les. "Though if you scare me like that again, a fever's gonna have'ta wait in line to soak ya."

"I'm _sorry_, it's not My Fault I was sick!" Les protested.

Davey didn't have the chance to comment as Race smacked him with a rolled-up pape. "You're an idiot if you think you're gettin' rid of us that easy."

"Yes Race, you're right, I'm an absolute idiot," Davey deadpanned. "Glad to see you too."

"Race read us your stories!" Buttons shouted.

"He did whAT?"

"Yeah! Before bed, he'd practice sounding them out, and we ended up listening!" JoJo affirmed. "They're really good!"

"Hey, what about my reading?!" Race protested, feigning offense. "That's half of it!"

Davey only laughed in disbelief, earning him another light smack. He'd missed this.

Crutchie ruffled Les's hair as the group eventually broke up to get their papes, and Jack emerged from the Lodging house to see what the commotion was about. He smiled at Davey.

"You're back to carry the banner?"

"Carrying the banner through it all," Davey responded. They shook on it.

**A/N: So… This finishes the story "Published" and "You Don't Change the World by Trying to be Like It" as a whole. I hope you found this a satisfying conclusion to both story arcs! I had a really good time writing this story and it was in a way, my first real adventure into writing fanfiction. It's sentimental for me to wrap it up, but I'm excited to get into more stories! If you liked it, feel free to leave a comment! I respond to every one.**

**Speaking of readers, I say this on every chapter, but I really really mean it when I say thank you so much to EVERYONE who's read and reviewed and supported this story. It means the world to me that you're interested in reading my take on the characters. A special thank you to DisneyFan10 who's been a super sweet supporter since the beginning and to Percie Jean who's such a good friend and listened patiently to all of my ideas for this story and more! I'm honored to have made such wonderful friends in you both. :D (also, go check out their stories if you haven't yet because they're amazing)**

**With this story being finished, I'm taking a short publishing hiatus until the New Year because I'm starting a new multi-chapter Newsie shipfic, maybe a fic for The Chronicles of Prydain, and some original fiction short stories that I might put over on FictionPress. This is all in addition to my work on my original fiction fantasy novel – I'm very close to finishing the first complete draft of the manuscript that I've been (slowly) working on for five years, and I'm hoping to make a final push to the end in these last months of the year. My goal with this is to write up a solid backlog of content in multiple different genres/fandoms so that way when I come back to publishing, I can keep a consistent update schedule while I keep working on new stories and college in the meantime.**

**I will still be around the site, reading and reviewing the stories I've followed and staying involved in the community, so if you have any questions about my work, want to strike up a conversation, or shoot me some story recs, please don't hesitate to PM me! I love chatting and make an effort to reply to comments. Community is what makes fandom so exciting and special for me, so I still want to be involved! Thank you again to everyone who's made me feel so welcome in this fandom! This has become such an important part of my life in the past few months and your support really does mean the world to me! 3**

**Farewell, dear readers, and I'll see you in the new year!**

**-M**


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